


Strike Witches Reimagined

by CorporalTommy1945, Thorthemighty



Series: The Neuroi War [2]
Category: Strike Witches
Genre: Action/Adventure, Air combat, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - WWII, Blood and Violence, Fear, Gen, Magic, Magic-Users, Major Character Injury, Military, Military Jargon, Original Character Death(s), POV Multiple, Some Humor, Swearing, War, Witches, implied post traumatic stress disorder, off-screen character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorporalTommy1945/pseuds/CorporalTommy1945, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorthemighty/pseuds/Thorthemighty
Summary: The Neuroi War as it would become known, would last officially over a decade. The strange enigmatic aliens appeared without warning and would sweep across Europe and Asia like a merciless plague; by 1942 great swaths of Europe and Asia have already fallen under their merciless grip, while they seek to expand the areas they control. There intent being clear, complete domination of Terra. Into this conflict comes Miyafuji Yoshika, a powerful healwitch with some training but zero combat experience to her name, despite her lack of combat experience due to major combat losses suffered by the 501st Joint Fighter Wing after a operation gone wrong and due to the state of the conflict experienced replacements not forthcoming, she along with her fellow trainee and wingwitch Hattori Shizuka are sent to Europe where they'll take part in one theater of the greatest conflict that mankind has ever known.
Series: The Neuroi War [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875742
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue -- Black Monday

**Author's Note:**

> I will make note that Strike Witches doesn't belong to me. Furthermore it should be noted that Strike Witches Reimagined is to put it plainly, a comprehensive reimagining of Strike Witches Universe. There are a number things that are going to be different that will explained in supplementary materials.

**Book I: Magical Girl**

* * *

**June 15th, 1942**

**Near Rye, Britannia**

**Base of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing - Control Tower**

The situation in the control tower was tense, Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke, commanding officer of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing and member of the _Kaiserlich Demokratische Deutsche Luftwaffe_ couldn’t help but pace as she waited for word on 1st Squadron to report in. This was supposed to be a recon mission of the region around the Caen Hive, a sprawling enemy base that was shrouded by black clouds that pulsed with malignant red lightning, it was roughly 6-kilometers in diameter with a height of 10,000-meters; hovering sedately about 2,000-meters over the center of Caen.

The plan was to scope the base out later for a major assault by not only the 501st, but also with support from the Royal Air Force and possibly the United States Army Air Forces. If they could knock this hive out, then the Neuroi would be forced to rely on captured airfields in the area of Caen in order to stage bomber strikes on Britannia, which were way easier to locate and destroy. Plus the number of Medium and Large types that raided the English Channel would decrease significantly. But before that could happen, they needed intelligence and that had fallen to Mi6 who had given them the mission.

Needless to say, this was an operation that had to succeed, no matter what. The amount of pressure they could take off the convoys arriving through the English Channel if this went according to plan was far too high to be worth screwing up. Yet it was operations like this that made her wonder if she really could command the 501st JFW effectively, mainly because it was like no other unit in the world, a multinational fighter witch wing with varying striker units that performed differently. Like it or not, despite their differences, the Neuroi appearing in 1935, no one had really stood on their own with any success, only delaying them near constantly until finally in 1941, the Neuroi made a mistake by attacking and _invading_ the United States of Amerrique along with the Dominion of Vesperia.

The crackle of static over the radio speaker brought Minna out of her musings just as the sharp voice of Flight Lieutenant Mara Rotaru, Fortis 14 came through, her Dacian accent coloring her words. “ _Fortis Fourteen here, no enemy fighters spotted; commencing recon flyby; ready to cover our sorry asses in case shit goes sideways Leader?_ ” In the background, Minna could make out the rumble of her IAR 80B striker units, not many of the Dacian-designed striker units had been produced in Germania before the country had fallen.

“ _Affirmative Fortis Fourteen, the rest of the squadron is ready to come bail you out in case this goes south. But please make sure that it doesn’t go south, got it?_ ” The sharp voice of Squadron Leader Sakamoto Mio, of the Imperial Jipangese Navy, barked, the content purring of her A6M5 Type 0 strikers providing background noise.

“ _Recepționat, alright D Flight; let’s do this. Clostermann, I want you to take Bishop and swing in from the south, I am going to take Wessel and swing in from the north. We’re going to do three passes each and then we are going to go home. Clear?_ ” Mara said sharply, the sound of her Lewis Gun being chambered being faintly audible in the background.

“ _Roger!_ ” A Britannian, a Gallian, and a South African all answered in unison.

Minna couldn’t help but smile, the 501st Joint Fighter Wing’s First Squadron, called Fortis Squadron for some reason, was an eccentric bunch but their effectiveness couldn’t be denied; compared to the other two squadrons within the 501st, none had shot down as many large and medium type Neuroi as Fortis squadron. Honestly it made her proud to have such a squadron at her disposal, but it was missions like these that always got her worried due to the fact that they could have very high attrition rates if something went wrong.

Thus she was stuck here, watching dots on the radar screen and not out commanding the unit personally, but Mio had insisted that she had things under control. She could tell just by watching the dots who was who, Mara and (Anja) Wessel were as solid as a rock as they finished the wide looping turn that would bring them in on a north to south path through Caen Hive. The other pair in D Flight was noticeably shaky, but not too bad, however Minna did feel sorry for Flying Officer Perrine Clostermann due to seeing her homeland under enemy occupation. Ironically enough, Airwitch Lynette Bishop seemed to be flying more steadily than her element leader; surprising but not overly so.

The four witches completed their first pass and was beginning to swing back around when Minna heard the words she had been dreading. “ _Fortis fourteen, this is Fortis seventeen, I got eyes on a Neuroi fighter force at two o’clock. Estimate twenty fighters at least._ ” Lynette said suddenly, her voice shaking slightly with fear, the chained thunder of her Whirlwind Mk I Strikers audible in the background.

“ _Types?!_ ” Mara demanded sharply as an ice cold lump of fear materialized in the pit of Minna’s stomach, this was bad, this was very, very _bad_.

Minna decided to intervene now, four witches against twenty Neuroi fighters, as long as they weren’t enemy heavy fighters, it would be a tough battle with injuries but it would still be practically a clean sweep; however, one thing she had learned was that Murphy could be a cold-hearted bastard at times. “Fortis Leader, this is Home Base, move to relieve D Flight now!” she barked into the radio talker.

Mio didn’t question it. “ _Roger Home Base, we are moving!_ ” she replied as the pitch of her striker units changed.

“ _Types, uh, I think they are Brutes, maybe Daggers? I can’t tell from this distance._ ” Lynette said, her voice shaking, the Britannian was terrified.

“ _La naiba._ ” Mara growled as she heard the report. “ _Home Base, I am scrubbing this mission. We are going to take what we got and run like hell, over._ ” she reported.

Minna took a deep breath, she hated being in this position, unable to do anything. “Affirmative, Fortis fourteen, extend towards the rest of Fortis Squadron but be prepared to engage if need be, over.” she said firmly.

“ _Wilco, out._ ”

Then the situation went from bad to worse. “ _Home Base, the Hive just lit up like a Christmas Tree, lightning and thunder is going all over the place! I-I think that the enemy is deploying a major unit, type unknown; Fortis sixteen, think you got better eyes on this?_ ” Anja said sharply.

“ _Affirmative Fortis fifteen, I am taking a look, cover me Lynette._ ” Perrine said swiftly, the content purring of her Arsenal VG39bis audible in the background.

“ _I am right behind you Fortis sixteen._ ” Lynette replied, the pitch of her striker units changing as she shifted her course. Minna could watch as the two dots indicating Perrine and Lynette shifted and began to head towards the Hive from a different angle and altitude relative to where Mara and Anja were to the thing.

“ _In position now, let’s see. Holy, I am seeing some major, repeat,_ major _disturbances in the clouds, I am going to take a closer look, wait one._ ” There was a long painful pause from Perrine, the sound of her striker units being the only sound coming over the speaker for several moments, then the engine pitch changed noticeably as the Gallian suddenly went to full power. “ _Merde, enemies spotted! One, no, two medium-types_ Condor _-class, variant unknown. Looks like about fifty Larosi Kai are with them, Fortis Leader. We need you here_ **right now** _, over!_ ” Gallian cried fearfully as Minna had to stop her knees from buckling, 50 Neuroi single-engined fighters, along with 20 heavy fighters, _and_ two medium-sized Condors? That was a thick cloud of black metal and alien weaponry, they would cut not just D Flight but also Fortis Squadron apart very quickly.

She took a deep breath, Katherine had decided that she would be the Commanding Officer of the 501st JFW for a reason and dammit, she had to prove now that her friend hadn’t made an error in that decision and right now, she _knew_ that Fortis Squadron needed reinforcements. She grabbed the microphone for the base wide intercom and clicked it, immediately afterwards she heard the mechanical bell ring to get the attention of everyone in the base. “Indigo and Ghostrider Squadrons scramble, I repeat Indigo and Ghostrider Squadrons scramble! Instructions are to be given following take-off, this is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill.” she barked sharply and then keyed the alarm, its chilling yet urgent sounding howl filled the air, she put down the intercom microphone and grabbed the talker for the radio.

“Fortis Leader, this is Home Base.” She said, trying to steal her nerves as she eyed the radar display. There was a mess of blips on screen, dozens of Neuroi fighters along with the two larger blips of the Condors, within that mess she could spot the four witches of D Flight executing frantic defensive maneuvers as the Neuroi swooped upon them, nearby the dozen blips that represented the rest of Fortis Squadron was just beginning to enter the fray, the flights were splitting into pairs and beginning to engage.

“ _Go ahead Home Base, over._ ” Mio grunted out, she must have been turning Minna realized because the pitch of her striker units while they were at full power, it sounded different. Occasionally in the background she could hear the rattle of gunfire and the discharge of Neuroi weaponry.

“I am having Indigo and Ghostrider Squadrons scramble right now, if you can attempt to pull the enemy towards Home Base, it will reduce the amount of time between them taking off and them reaching your position.” Minna said quickly in response, icey lump of dread remained; she wished that she could go out there and join the fray.

But Joint Fighter Wing regulations prevented her from doing so in a situation like this, she needed to remain focused on the big picture and while her magical ability would allow her to remain focused on the big picture, it had a limited range and wouldn’t be able to cover the 130 or so miles between the base and Caen Hive while the radar at the base could; she hated having to do it, but she had to remain here.

For several moments all she could hear over the radio was Mio’s grunts as she maneuvered, then there was a long burst of gunfire from her M2W and a whoop of joy. “ _Scratch one Dagger!_ ” the squadron leader cried before answering. “ _Roger that, I’ll try and get something going here._ ”

The roar of engines from downstairs was becoming all consuming now, she looked out the window at the airstrip outside and could see the tiny forms of witches taxiing, she knew that the only thing that was uniform among them was their weaponry and the identification marking on the tail of their Striker Units. They hailed from numerous nations and flew various striker units, but they were united in their goal.

For a moment Minna decided to let herself listen to the radio chatter and the bustle of the control tower. “Affirmative Ghostrider Flight Able, your cleared for take-off, ascend to angels five and make your course 175-degrees, additional instructions to follow.” One of the flight controllers said in response to something that Zulfa al-Hariri, the squadron leader for Ghostrider Squadron, had said.

Through the windows, Minna watched as four small figures began to accelerate down the base’s singular runway. Four more figures began taxiing onto the runway in a slightly staggered manner to allow four additional figures onto the runway.

“ _Splash three, splash three!_ ” She heard Flying Officer Erica Hartmann, an ace that was second to none in skill, exclaimed jubilantly.

“ _I got one on me! Can someone clear my six?!_ ” Lynette cried out fearfully, over the roar of her Whirlwinds, Minna could hear the heavy shrieking discharge of Neuroi 43mm mini-rockets and the hissing crackle of Neuroi Pulse Plasma; the Britannian had an enemy heavy fighter on her tail.

To Minna’s relief, someone responded to Lynette’s plight. “ _Merde, I thought I told you to stay on my wing Seventeen!_ ” Perrine responded angrily.

“ _I was trying! But my Whirlwind strikers aren’t as maneuverable as your VG-39bis! I can’t evade for-_ ”

**BOOM**

Lynette screamed in pain and Minna’s heart dropped, that had been a rocket. Shrapnel must have gotten past the Britannian’s shield and hit her. Perrine’s reaction was less than subtle. “ _I am coming Lynette; don’t you_ **dare** _die on me._ ” she snarled.

“ _Hurry, I am not sure how much longer I can keep evading!_ ” Lynette replied, her voice clearly pained.

The blips on the radar continued chasing each other around, while close to the source of the line that indicated the radar sweep, more blips were beginning to appear, representing the other two squadrons in the 501st JFW certified for day time operations began to take off.

“ _Fortis Sixteen where the bloody hell are you?! I can’t keep this up!_ ” Lynette cried out, she was in pain and from the sounds of it getting tired as well. Minna knew that if Perrine couldn’t get to her aid soon, then she would likely get shot down.

“ _I am slotting in on the Brute's six right now, bastard hasn’t noticed me yet. Hang on._ ” Perrine said conversationally as the pitch of her strikers changed, indicating a turn.

“ _Make it quick, he’s on me!_ ” Lynette cried, sounding relieved but still frantic. Something sounded odd about her striker units; battle damage, Minna realized.

“ _I am on him._ ” Perrine said in response It was several long seconds before the Gallian spoke again. “ _Scratch one Brute, we won’t be seeing him again_.”

“ _Thank you Perrine!_ ” Lynette sounded like she could hug Perrine out of joy and relief, it brought a smile to Minna’s face.

That changed with a yell of surprise and pain from one of the other witches. “ _I am hit bad, I am not sure if I can stay airborne!_ ” The distinct Lusitanian accent of Flight Sergeant Maristela Lobo rang, her voice was pained and even through the radio link, Minna could hear the death rattle of a striker unit engine.

“ _Shit, I am coming to you, Fortis Six, hang on._ ” Flight Lieutenant Charlotte “Shirley” Yeager of the United States Army Air Forces called out, the pitch of her P-40F striker units shifting as she came about.

“ _Make it quick! One of the Condors has it in for me!_ ” Maristela replied, the thunderclap like crackle from near misses from the plasma beams being near deafening.

A scream rang out over the radio and immediately chaos filled the airwaves.

“ _Who got hit!?_ ”

“ _All Fortis witches, sound off!_ ”

“ _I am good, Leader!_ ”

“ _Same here leader!_ ”

“ _Twelve is hit! She’s going down!_ ” Flying Officer Sanya V. Lityvak’s voice was sharp and clear, yet filled with fear and queasiness.

“ _Any sign of a chute!?_ ” Mio demanded, asking the question that Minna wanted to know the answer too and yet didn’t want to hear it at the sametime.

Sanya’s reply was on the verge of a sob. “ _Negative, a Condor sliced both her and her strikers in half._ ”

Minna felt her heart drop as the information sank in. One of her girls was dead and she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. 

“ _Fortis eleven, break off engagement and cover the retreat of Fortis Sixteen and Seventeen; Fortis Seventeen is injured and Fortis Sixteen won’t leave her if she has anything to say about it._ ” Mio ordered.

“ _Yes ma’am!_ ” Sanya replied tearfully, the pitch of her strikers changing as she shifted her course.

Fifteen blips were engaged with the Neuroi, scratch that twelve blips were engaged as three other blips began to bug out, another thirty-two blips were en route. Despite the fact that the Neuroi were taking horrific losses but, they had taken down a witch and had most certainly scored a probable. That alone would make the losses they were taking to their fighter core worth it.

“ _Look out nine!_ ” Airwitch Nadia Angelica of Italia cried out.

“ _Wha-, scheiße!_ **Break!** ” Flight Lieutenant Gertrude Barkhorn barked out suddenly in response.

On the radar screen, one of the few Brutes that remained in the fight barrelled through the airspace that Barkhorn and Nadia were occupying, which forced them to separate. Minna could see what was about to happen before likely anyone else could, a group of eleven Larosi Kai fighters pouncing on them from above.

“Barkhorn, Angelica! High! High!” She called out, wishing she could give a bearing relative to them, but that was a limitation of the radar set, even though it had been augmentated by similar electronics that allowed for their communication devices to be made so small, which allowed it more capable than other models.

“ **SCHEISSE!** ” Barkhorn yelled as her MG120-H bellowed in response, the massive 20mm autocannon roaring its deafening battlecry at the enemy fighters.

“ **DANNAZIONE!** ” Nadia yelled as her Lewis Gun clattered in response, faintly over the racket from both weapons Minna could hear the retaliation from the Neuroi fighters.

On the radar screen, she watched numbly as half of the Neuroi fighters pouncing on Barkhorn and Angelica from above were shot out of the sky, but then she noticed that the Brute was coming back around much faster than any _human_ fighter its size ought to. She could barely shout a warning before it reached what she just _knew_ was engagement range.

Several moments later Gertrude shouted in anger and denial as alarmed and sorrowful calls filled the radio. “ _Fortis Ten down._ ” Mio said in a tone that was devoid of emotion, at least it seemed like, but Minna could pick out the undertone of sadness and anger that was somewhat hidden.

“ _Fortis Leader, this is Fortis Five. I just got to Fortis Six._ ” Shirley was choked up with tears. “ _I don’t think she’s going to make it._ ”

Minna’s shoulders slumped, first they had lost Airwitch Dorothy Mosley, then they had lost Nadia Angelica, now they were going to lose a third witch today?! How many more were they going to lose?

“ _I….I am … sorry … Leader._ ” Maristela said, her voice sounded wet to an unhealthy degree. “ _....I ... allowed … myself … to … get … dinged … up._ ”

Mio muttered something that was extremely unladylike and despite the emotions that were roiling through her, Minna felt her cheeks color. She knew that her friend wasn’t crass, but she hadn’t expected her to be able to use language like _that_. Apparently despite having hid it since the 501st JFW was founded, Mio did have a sailor’s mouth.

Then the squadron leader spoke up. “ _Shirley, try and get Maristela home. That’s an order._ ”

Shirley’s voice was heavy with emotion. “ _Wilco, out._ ”

On the radar screen, two dots merged into one dot and began to fly out of the battlezone. Flying in the same direction as three other dots.

All of the Neuroi heavy fighters by now were down, but there were still at least thirty enemy fighters plus those two Condors milling about. But Minna also _knew_ that those girls had to be running low on magic given how they seemed to be focused on going evasive more often. The chaotic furball was no longer over Neuroi-Occupied Gallia thankfully, but now was over the English Channel. If anything that made the battle even more dangerous, any downed witch would be looking at a swim while waiting for rescue from MTBs or a flying boat, if their injuries were too severe or if they couldn’t get out of their strikers or parachute in time, it would drag them to the bottom.

“ _Fortis Leader, we’re not going to last long enough given the rate that we’re losing girls for backup to arrive. I talked it over with Anja, we’re going to form an element and start delaying the enemy, we think if we launch an attack on the Condors, then the Neuroi fighters will focus on us._ ” Mara said suddenly over the radio, her Lewis gun clattering.

What the? They couldn’t possibly be thinking about doing this, they had to know that doing so meant that they would be forfeiting their own lives right? Apparently, Mio also agreed with that line of thought. “ _Fortis Fourteen this is Leader, you do know that attacking those Condors means almost certain death right?_ ” The squadron leader asked.

“ _I realize that ma’am; but even if we win this tangle with the fighters, we still have to deal with a pair of Condors and ma’am, with all due respect, backup is likely fifteen minutes out at least. Quite frankly, by the time they get here, they likely won’t be much of a squadron to save._ ” Mara replied sharply, her voice was unwavering in her confidence.

Minna tipped her head, she just _knew_ that Mara was correct. Indigo and Ghostrider squadrons wouldn’t arrive in time to relieve Fortis Squadron, someone had to act otherwise the entire squadron would be lost or at least gutted by the Neuroi. But she didn’t like this anyways because it meant that two more witches would be going to their deaths, which meant two more goddamned letters that she would have to write today.

The next transmission however, it was as if someone drove an ice-cold spike into her chest. “ _Home Base, Fortis Fourteen here; Wing Commander Wilcke?_ ” Mara asked, she sounded confident, but Minna could hear the undertones and in that moment she knew that Mara was also scared out of her mind for having to do this.

Despite that, the Wing Commander picked up the talker for the radio as she eyed the radar plot; Neuroi fighters were still thinning out but there was still a significant number of them. “This is Home Base, go ahead For-” Minna started to say Mara’s recognition number within the squadron but stopped herself, this was likely going to be the last time that she would speak to the Dacian. “Go ahead Mara.” she said instead, not even using her formal rank or last name.

She could practically hear the sad smile that the Dacian had on her face. “ _It has been an honor to fight and fly alongside you and to be part of the Strike Witches, flying as a wingwitch again. It has reminded me of how the girls that I commanded during the Neuroi invasion of the Dacia felt. I am honestly going to miss it._ ”

Several silent tears ran down Minna’s face as she heard those words and now, doing her best to keep it together she replied. “The honor was mine to bear Mara,” then she switched to Dacian, it was a language that she couldn’t speak very well, but she could speak it well enough. “Ceruri azurice și vânturi blânde, prietenul meu.'' She finished with an ancient farewell that dated back to when witches still used brooms.

The response nearly broke her. “ _Gramercy, Wing Commander; I am confident we will see each other again on the other side, out._ ” Mara replied crisply and then on the radar screen, two small blips changed course and broke out of the main furball, shooting down four enemy fighters in the process. Without fear they went straight at one of the Condors and began the choreographed dance of a planned attack strategy.

Immediately roughly two-thirds of the remaining Neuroi fighters broke off and sped back towards the Condors to provide support. She knew though that while Fortis Squadron was being pushed to the extreme ragged edge of their endurance in this fight that they most certainly weren’t out of the running yet.

She could barely hear Mio’s callout about seeing a weak point in the rough “encirclement” that the Neuroi were keeping Fortis Squadron in. But she did see the results of it, in a matter of moments, the remaining members of the squadron had formed into a rough wedge formation on screen and they punched out of the furball then began to make speed for home.

Thirty-two blips were currently passing a group of three blips as they raced to the aid of seven blips, between those two groups was a singular blip that was larger than a normal blip for a witch. Behind the group of seven came eighteen blips that were the enemy, intent on running them down. Finally behind the forces that were closer to Gallia, two blips stood out alone in a cloud of thirty-three enemy fighters and two medium type enemies as they made their final stand.

Minna had only felt this helpless once before in her life, she was here in a nice safe control tower some 130-miles away from where their objective had been, unable to do anything but watch as those under her command fought and died in battle against an overwhelming force.

She keyed the talker again, it was time to start doing the hardest part of today. “Fortis eleven, do we need the fire trucks and ambulances on standby?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Silence for several moments and then the Ruthenian sighed deeply. “ _Affirmative Home Base on the fire trucks and ambulances. Lynette’s in a bad way and her striker units have visible damage, I don’t know if they will be able to hold together when she lands. Perrine looks visibly distraught, might be best to have her undergo a checkup too._ ”

“Roger, Fortis eleven, we’ll have the fire trucks and ambulances ready to receive. Just in case, we’ll have them ready for everyone else who is coming.” Minna said before switching back to the intercom and making the announcement to scramble the fire trucks and ambulances. It was also the signal for the infirmary to prepare for incoming wounded.

With that task complete, she turned her gaze back to the radar screen, the first trio of blips was slowly approaching the base now. The thirty-two blips were now drawing parallel with the somewhat larger than normal witch radar blip, five minutes maybe past that came the seven blips running flat out in a bid to outrun the eighteen enemy fighter blips. Far beyond those two groups of blips, two more witches engaged a pair of medium-type Condors and a cloud of fighters.

All she could do was watch, that feeling of helplessness and not being able to do anything was greater than ever. She couldn’t help but admire the bravery of her girls, despite not being in the skies with them, they had just fought and survived a battle of overwhelming odds. Mostly. The fact that Fortis Squadron was only able to escape due to two members going on a suicide mission, it resulted in a tightness in her chest as two brave souls willingly went to their deaths.

But as she watched the radar screens, Minna realized that while Mara and Anja weren’t going to be coming back from this; they _were_ going to make their own deaths worthy of the history books. She could tell that one of the Condors was clearly floundering under the assault from the two witches, despite the fact that the two blips that represented them had become less than steady in their turns, climbs, and dives. Their reaction times were slowing, injuries and battle damage had to be piling up, regardless it was clear that the duo also quite frankly _didn’t care_ , they had already downed eight enemy fighters as well as having dealt heavy damage to one of the Condors.

The radio crackled and Anja’s voice came through, the sound of her Lewis Gun and that of Neuroi weapons fire was nearly deafening and the South African witch had a lot of pain in her voice, but the resolve in it was unmistakable. “ _Strikers won’t be able to keep me at this altitude at the speeds that I am demanding out of it much longer but we are going to kill this thing. Mara, I am going for a ram and we know where the core is; give them hell my friend._ ” she said.

Wet tears ran down her cheeks as the dot indicating Anja swept in towards the floundering Condor one last time and accelerated, beyond the combat speeds that were occurring around the Neuroi mediums, the witch flying them undoubtedly streamlining her strikers for speed. The two dots merged together for one long instant and then the Torpedo Boat-sized blip for the floundering Conder simply _shattered_ into hundreds of contacts roughly the size of twin-engined light bombers, all of them descending towards the sea. Of the blip that had represented Anja, there was simply no sign.

Once again the speaker crackled but this time, it was different because it wasn’t a member of Fortis Squadron saying they’d been hit, instead it was the other two squadron leaders and they both sounded _mad_. “ _Ghostrider Squadron/Indigo Squadron_ ” they chorused in unison. “ _Fangs out!_ ”

The Neuroi fighters that had been chasing Fortis Squadron performed an almost immediate about face as thirty-two pissed off witches came right at them, they frantically fled trying to escape them. But the other two witch squadrons were out for blood and their fantastic power-to-weight advantage and hence acceleration meant that they could go from maximum cruising speed to their maximum speed _very_ _quickly_ , that was shown here. The witches fell upon the retreating Neuroi maybe two minutes after they turned around, quickly felling half of the enemy fighters. The remaining enemy fighters didn’t last very long past that, leaving the path between Ghostrider and Indigo Squadrons to the remaining aliens clear.

But it was too late for Mara, just by looking at the radar screen Minna could tell. She was struggling to maintain level flight now and in the turns, she was slipping in altitude by meters. It came as no surprise when the Neuroi finally got sick and tired of playing around, six fighters came in from two different directions. Mara spotted one group but didn’t see the other, she broke left to spoil the attack and her break carried her into perfect position for the other attack group. A single pass from the other three fighters and the blip that represented the Dacian vanished from the screen.

For the first time since the operation began, Squadron Leader Ronja Bergkvist of Baltland, her second in command, spoke up. “Minna” she said, just loud enough for her to hear. “How about you go out to the airstrip in order to greet the members of Fortis Squadron as they arrive, I can handle things with Ghostrider and Indigo Squadrons.”

Minna sighed but nodded at the older witch’s words, knowing it was true. They had a mauled squadron coming in with two more squadrons out for blood, a force that outnumbered the Neuroi. It wouldn’t end well for the bastards, she knew that much. “Thanks Ronja.” she said simply and then she left the control tower.

The 501st JFW Base was built on the ruins of an outpost that dated back to before the Ancient Roman Empire, it was protected by various wards, some of which used ancient and powerful magic, meaning that it was protected from threats that were more common during ancient periods, a lot of animals considered nowadays to be mythical were _very_ real. Those same wards provided reasonable protection against medium and large type Neuroi, the protection against light Neuroi bombers left much to be desired, to that end an entire Royal Artillery Heavy Anti-Aircraft Regiment, a Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment, and a Searchlight Battalion had been stationed at the base.

To anyone who wasn’t military it may have seemed like overkill considering how many 3.7-inch and 40mm Bofors AA guns, plus a number of searchlights were stationed at the base. But in Minna’s opinion it was barely sufficient, the Neuroi were just that tough. She sighed as she walked past the Memorial Wall, it was in the hallway that led from the barracks to the main common room, to get to just about any part of the base, you had to walk through there. They were going to be adding four possibly five more names to the wall, joining seven other members of the 501st who had either been either killed in training or killed in action. Four girls lost in a single operation, she couldn’t think of very many battles were witches had suffered that _many_ dead in battle. Just another thing on the pile as to why she had failed as a commanding officer today. The 501st JFW was supposed to be one of the best units in the world due to having some of the best witches in the world and in one operation, four of them had been killed by the Neuroi.

It honestly was a lot to process.

Her feet carried her through the hangar for Fortis Squadron, the striker units for the Wing’s command flight were stored here as well. She paused for a moment and stared at her own striker units, the regulations laid out for recon missions were clear, she couldn’t have deployed even though she wanted to. With a sorrowful sigh, she moved on and left the striker unit stands behind and walking out of the hangar and into the late morning sun. In the distance she could hear the throaty rumble of Perrine’s VG-39bis and the deeper roar of Sanya’s Yak-1, but also a less pleasant sound; one which she recognized as a striker unit engine on its last legs.

The squeal of brakes caused the redhead to turn and she saw one of the Dodge WC54 Ambulances that the base had come to a stop nearby. “Need a lift ma’am?” Someone asked.

She nodded in response. “Thanks Private.” she said, climbing into the passenger seat, being well aware of the medic and the mediwitch in the back of the vehicle.

“No problem ma’am.” He said as he put the ambulance into gear and hit the gas, the engine roaring as the Dodge raced down the flightline and then onto the taxiway before coming to a stop at the edge of the hastily assembled Tarmacadam runway; she hopped out of the ambulance and began scanning skies.

That’s when she arrived, dipping the wings of her striker units low in salute, a witch flew over the base coming from the coast. Minna didn’t hear the discharge of the flare gun, but she saw the recognition flare being fired from the witch, a tiny cherry red sun that glowed brilliantly against the steely grey cloud deck. “There’s Sanya.” the Wing Commander muttered under her breath as the Ruthenian’s storm grey striker units blended in near perfectly with the clouds, the only thing marking them out being the stylized red shooting star on the wings and fuselage.

She started scanning the skies and then spotted them. Two other figures, one was clearly supporting the other were coming in, in seemingly no time at all they duo flew overhead and Minna paled at the sight. Lynette was practically hanging off of Perrine, her Lewis Gun was nowhere to be seen and even from here she could see that the Whirlwind striker units the Britannian was wearing had visible damage, the skin of the striker units were punctured in several places, torn in others, and had at least one hole where the metal had been melted and boiled through thanks to a Neuroi energy weapon strike; one of the engines was struggling to maintain the RPMs that the witch was trying to get out of it, constantly revving up then down which led it to making a very unsettling noise and the other engine had a very distinct rattle. 

With nervous anticipation, Minna watched as Perrine helped her wingwitch maneuver to line up, not with the tarmac runway, but the expansive grassy field that was alongside it. _Good girl Perrine, if this goes poorly, the grass is more forgiving than tarmac._ She thought as she watched them come in.

Then they separated but as she expected, Perrine stayed by her wingwitch’s side for the entirety of the approach. She could see the landing gear slowly deploy on the Whirlwind and the bright yet soft blue-white glow of a magic circle materialized under Lynette as she came in, getting brighter as she got closer to the ground; 35-meters off the deck, 25-meters, Lynette was looking a little wobbly as the extent of her wounds became more apparent, 10-meters, 3-meters, contact.

Minna could only look on as the landing gear for Lynette’s left striker unit having suffered damage in battle, held the weight of the striker and witch for only a couple of seconds before failing. It sent the Britannian first skidding sideways for two long seconds as she flailed her arms in a frantic bid to remain upright before she toppled to that side as the bottom of the unit was ripped away with an ear rattling _screech_ as metal sheared and tore; sending the witch tumbling to the ground at speed, momentum carrying her for several additional meters.

Without thought she leaped onto the side of the ambulance, planting her feet on the step-up and hanging onto the side view mirrors. “Go! Go!” she shouted at the driver even as Perrine ejected from her striker units some five meters off the ground as her body glowed with magic; the Gallian hit the ground and converted her forward momentum into a roll and she came up in a dead sprint as she headed towards where her wingwitch lay in the cold grass, unmoving.

The driver shifted into gear and hit the gas, the engine roared as the ambulance shot forwards, it came to a stop maybe twenty feet away. She leapt off the mudguard just as the back doors to the ambulance flew open and the medical portion of the crew leaped out of the back, carrying a stretcher.

When she got there, Perrine had already pulled Lynette clear of her wrecked strikers and looked relieved at the arrival of her CO. But what was most disconcerting was the amount of blood that she was covered with, apparently noticing the look that her CO was giving her and realizing that she had a considerable amount of blood on her. “The blood‘s not mine.” she stated glumly, her English having a light but noticeable accent.

“Oh.” Minna said as the medical team carefully put Lynette on the stretcher. It simply looked like someone had broken multiple beer bottles made of the strange material that the Neuroi used in their fragmentation weapons across her left shoulder, left arm, and back; several pieces of the stuff was buried in her side. The Britannian made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a cat-like hiss that caused Minna’s heart to clench, the newest member of the wing was in so much pain.

“We have to get her to the medical wing _now_ , otherwise she likely won’t make it.” The doctor said and the mediwitch nodded.

“Right, I can’t even begin to heal her until we get this shrapnel out, I hope to god that it hasn’t shifted too much, but given the crash, it most certainly did.” the mediwitch growled in response.

“Three, two, one, lift!” The doctor said and they lifted the stretcher up and began to carry it to the ambulance, Perrine followed after them without preamble, her familiar vanishing as she dismissed it, a soft white glow appearing for a moment around her legs which resolved into her Chartreux familiar named Aramis; almost immediately exhaustion from the long flight and battle caused her stance which wasn’t great prior to practically wilt. Minna followed up behind them as Lynette was gently loaded up into the ambulance followed by the mediwitch helping Perrine who was looking a little shaky into the ambulance as Aramis bounded up into the vehicle behind them and leaped into Perrine’s arms within moments of her sitting down.

Not wasting anytime, Minna then slammed the back doors shut behind them. “Better step on it, doc.” she said as she did so before looking around. Apparently unnoticed in the chaos from Lynette’s crash, Sanya had landed and was taxiing towards the hangar for Fortis Squadron, her Fliegerhammer strapped across her back and a Lewis Gun hanging across her front from its strap. 

The ambulance pulled away, heading back towards the stone castle that served as HQ for the 501st JFW. She then turned her attention back to the grassy backup runway, the crash crews were clearing the remains of Lynette and Perrine’s striker units. She went over to where they were being loaded into the back of a Jeep to be carried back to the hanger; but she had a feeling that both were total losses. With Lynette’s being a total loss due to how they had been sounding before the landing attempt had resulted in a crash and Perrine’s because she ejected from them 5-meters off the ground and the impact had caused them to bounce several times.

She sighed, while she understood Perrine’s reasoning for ejecting like she did, it did wreck a set of striker units and they weren’t exactly cheap either. But now they had to wait for Shirley and Maristela to arrive, another witch who was likely in dire need of medical attention.

Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long for the Americaine to appear, the roar of the mighty Royals Royces magic engine was deafening as the witch shot overhead, the limp form of a teenage girl with striker units bearing Lusitanian markings was held in the Americaine’s arms. Upon seeing Shirley appear, Minna signaled for the other ambulance to get ready. She watched as the Yank came in, the landing gear deploying and then touching down, seeing the medical teams she taxied over to them after landing and exchanged words with one of the medics before dejectedly taxiing over to where she was, killing her engines as she did so.

“How’s Maristela?” Minna answered.

Shirley’s answer literally took her breath away. “Gone ma’am, she bled to death over the Channel.” she said dejectedly, tears welling up in her eyes. “She knew it too, when she started getting cold, she panicked and started calling for her mother.” with that she broke down into tears.

 _That’s five, God, we’ve lost five witches in one day? This is becoming a nightmare._ Minna thought bleakly as the words sank in, they were supposed to be the best witch fighter wing in the world; but losing this many in one day? To put it simply, it was unfathomable and almost impossible to comprehend.

That didn’t change the fact that Minna still had a crying witch to deal with, not helping matters was the fact that her striker units were just over a meter tall as well as the fact that Shirley was one of the tallest witches in the entire wing. With gentle care, she guided her to one of the waiting Jeeps that had a medical cross on it and helped her sit down in the back of the Willys. There Shirley slowly went through the motions of pulling off her striker units like they were socks, it was an older method of dismounting from striker units before modern stands had been devised but it worked.

One of the medics came over. “We’re going to be sending Ms. Lobo to the morgue ma’am. She was far too young to have died like that.” the young man said, visibly shaken.

Shirley’s sobs became deeper and Minna sighed deeply. “Understood,” she said plainly, it was a part of the base that she hoped to god that she would never have to visit again. But she would have to do so again to pay final respects.

The man nodded and walked away. A few minutes later, one of the other ambulances had its bell toll once and then the olive drab vehicle slowly drove away like a hearse leading a funeral procession.

Shirley managed to find her voice a few minutes later, stuttering as she spoke. “God, the look that Maristela had in her eyes during her final minutes after she became too weak to talk; I could see it in her eyes, she was pleading with me to do something, no, _anything_ to prevent the Grim Reaper from taking her. But I couldn’t have done anything to stop her from dying, I wasn’t going to risk capture just to get her medical attention and there weren't any islands between the AO and the base.”

This left Minna with something of a conundrum, how to tell Shirley that she had done everything she possibly could to save Maristela and also tell her that steps would be taken to prevent it from occurring again. She thought about it for a long moment then decided her course of action. “Maristela’s death is on me.” the German said.

Shirley’s head snapped up, her eyes bulging as she stared at her CO. “ _What?!_ ” she demanded incredulously with anger seeping into her voice as well.

“It’s true, the 501st first began operations right around the time that the Blitz was beginning. It should be noted that up until recently the Neuroi seemed unstoppable. They had swept through Europe, leaving only Italia and Helvetia unblemished by their touch and as we are speaking are tearing apart the Iberian Peninsula and parts of Venezia. But back then, we had desperation mounting, it was noted that due to the colgermation of tactics that were employed by ad-hoc units composed of multiple nationalities were having somewhat more success against the Neuroi.” Minna paused for a moment and took in a deep breath as she got to the hard part, her tone growing more heavy. “Thus the Joint Formation concept was devised, so we could use that to our advantage but have a more unified command structure. When the 501st JFW was working up, I was notified that there was only one healwitch available despite the fact that I requested four and that they said that there were two others who were interested but they had just started training. So I was faced with a dilemma, either accept the one healwitch I could get now or wait a few months and get _maybe_ three healwitches as well as delaying the 501st JFW being declared combat ready; instead of taking the route that would get me at least two healwitches I made the call and we only got one and not helping matters was that she was a nightwitch.”

Shirley looked stunned. “I had no idea.”

 _Not very many know about what resulted in our current healwitch situation and it's something that haunts me constantly with the decision I made, even more so now._ “Only the command flight, the squadron leaders, and the Brass know about it. I made that decision and now I am regretting it, if we had even _one_ healwitch in any of our daytime squadrons, it's likely that Maristela would still be here or at least would’ve made it back to base to receive medical attention. But because of a decision I made years ago, I effectively killed her and thus the Neuroi aren’t at fault, I am.”

Shirley was silent for several long moments, her eyes wide even though they were still shining with unwept tears as she stared at the bombshell her CO had just dropped. “Commander, I-” she began.

Minna held up a hand, pausing the Americaine mid-sentence. “Don’t worry, I am going to make _damn_ sure that we get a healwitch for our daytime squadrons and I am taking Fortis Squadron off the combat roster until we can get replacements. Regardless, because of my mistake, I got another death that I _know_ I could have prevented but because of decisions that I made, I didn’t prevent Maristela’s death. Remember her and mourn her passing, but the hardest and most important part about this is remembering to move on from it. Trust me Shirley, I am speaking from experience on this and that was a dark eight months for me.” she said with a sorrowful sigh. _I am only now truly getting over Kurt’s death even though it happened two years ago, I still don’t know how I got off that beach but it was probably thanks to him._ She thought as she spoke.

“I see, how do you deal with it Commander? I got recruited into the 501st after showing that I was practically a natural born fighter witch, sure I’ve gotten kills but I’ve never lost a wingwitch. Maristela was the first wingwitch I’ve lost.” Shirley asked, her eyes shining.

Minna sighed deeply. “How do I deal with it? I don’t think that I can answer that question very well. But losing a sister-in-arms is never easy, I honestly have never fully gotten over it. There's not a day that doesn’t go by where I don’t think about them, there have been times where I’ve actively wondered why I got to live and they got to die. But that’s what makes us human, if you ever need someone to talk to, my office is open.” she replied truthfully, it was one of the reasons why she maintained an open door policy.

Shirley nodded. “Thanks ma’am, I’ll go get myself cleaned up and go for an after action checkup.” the Americaine said, sounding at least a little better than she had been after landing.

“Alright, dismissed.” Minna said, her expression remaining neutral, salutes were exchanged and Minna nodded to the Jeep driver after Shirley clambered into one of the seats. The vehicle’s Go Devil engine rumbled and the vehicle pulled away.

Minna spent several more minutes standing there as she waited for the rest of Fortis Squadron to arrive. She could smell the sea air from here, just faintly but she could make it out. The distant rumble like thunder in the distance was growing quickly, she focused on it and quickly picked out the distinctive sounds of the various engines that were produced by the various striker units. A motley mixture of radials and inlines that all produced their own distinctive sound as they powered through the air.

Then the remaining seven members of Fortis Squadron flew overhead in vee formation. She knew that there were two fellow German witches along with a Suommish witch, an Ostmarkian witch, an Italian witch, a New Zeelander witch, and a Jipangese witch were up there. The rumble of their engines and the silhouettes of their striker units identifying them easily, Sakamoto was in the lead with her _Zeke_ , along with Erica Hartmann and Gertrude Barkhorn in their Bf-109 G-2s, Laura Tóth who also was flying Bf-109 G-2s, Eila Juutilainen flying B-239Es the distinct roar of the Wright Hurricane magic engine echoing over the field, also up their was Francesca Lucchini and her M.C. 202 _Folgore_ striker units, finally she could also see Flight Sergeant Eriki Witika and her Supermarine Spitfire Mark Vb striker units.

Even from her Minna could tell that some of the striker units were damaged with some leaving a trail of oil or water behind them. Despite that the remaining seven members dipped their wings low in salute and fired off recognition flares, to which the landing officer fired one in response. After that the witches began lining up into a landing formation, the girls with the most pressing injuries and battle damage to their strikers lining up first.

Laura landed her first, the right Daimler Benz magic engine belching a thick dark grey stream into the sky as she went through the landing procedures and Minna also noticed that she was clutching her right arm and she appeared to have a couple of sunburns from near misses and maybe a couple of scrapes from shrapnel. The wheels hit the tarmac with a loud squeal and she cuts back the throttle with landing flaps deployed, she’s had just gotten off the runway and onto the taxiway when with a distinctly unpleasant metallic sound rang through the air as the magic engine within the right unit failed spectacularly, a great plume of dark grey smoke erupting from the access panels.

Minna sighed as she heard the landing officer yelling for a FOD sweep in the area where the magic engine in Laura’s striker unit had blown up. It seemed that nothing was going right now, between having five KIAs along with at least three wrecked striker units. She could hear a Jeep behind her, the soldiers within would help the Ostmarklandian get her dead strikers as well as herself back to the hangers. Sighing, she turned back to watch the landings.

Francesca landed next, both striker units were making a distinctly unhealthy sounding rattle and seemed to be leaking coolant as she landed which was slightly wobbly but nothing too major, but unlike Laura, the young Italia born witch had gotten through this fiasco with what appeared to be little more than sunburns from near misses from energy weapons. The good news was that damage to her strikers didn’t seem like it would mean writing off her strikers, judging by the rattle, the engines had probably been thrown out of balance due to battle damage. The youngest witch in the unit successfully taxied off the runway and started heading towards the hangers, the magic engines in her strikers complaining loudly all the way.

Eriki came in next and Minna paled, the striker units had visible damage, the majority of the wingtip was completely gone on the left unit and the right unit was leaving a thin grey stream as well as a pale white cloud in her wake. She was most certainly wobbling as she came in, with visible shuddering something broke inside the strikers because one of the engines began revving unexpectedly as if it were struggling to maintain the proper RPMs that the New Zeelander was demanding from them. _Shit, got to land quickly Eriki, that engine isn’t going to last much longer!_ Minna thought as she watched intently.

Eriki seemed to know it too, for she was coming in a little fast compared to the usual landing speed with Spitfire Mark Vb striker units. Thirty meters off the deck with a loud _wrrrraaaauuump_ the right magic engine completely seized and Minna could only watch in horror as physics immediately took over. Eriki was violently thrown into a flat-spin, her scream of terror barely audible over the howl of the other engine, but at this altitude there was nothing she could do. Witch and striker crashed into the ground with a loud _thud_ , even from this distance, Minna vaguely thought that she could hear the New Zeelander’s bones breaking from the impact.

“ _Mein Gott_ ” she whispered even as one of the crash crews was moving out to assist her. Minna knew that there was no way that Eriki could have survived, not at the altitude that her spin had started at because she hadn’t seen the New Zeelander use her shield to cushion her landing.

This had to be a nightmare and she hoped she would wake up soon.

Yet she already _knew_ that she wouldn’t wake from this nightmare, this really was happening. Once again tears threatened to come forth as she watched as a stretcher that held Eriki’s body was loaded into an ambulance. The vehicle had its bell toll once, the sound painfully sharp and clear as it was audible even over the thunder of the aircraft engines and with a muted rumble, the ambulance solemnly drove away.

Everything seemed to blur together after that, the other witches made their landings and headed back towards the hangers. She didn’t even realize that Fortis Squadron had finished landing until Mio had landed and taxied up to her, the magic engine in her strikers purring lowly. “Come on Commander, the last of Fortis just landed. Let’s get ready for this debrief.” she said, sounding about as shocked by this as how she felt.

“Right.” Minna said and slowly she walked back across the taxiway and flightline, towards the hangers. The dark grey clouds in the sky mirrored her thoughts on what had just happened, dark and gloomy. She had to write six letters of the “I regret to inform you” variety. She also made a note to put Anja in for the Victoria Cross and Mara in for the Order of Michael the Brave, Second Class with recommendation for First Class. It was because of the heroism of those two that Fortis Squadron hadn’t suffered even worse at the hands of the Neuroi.

They were real heroes that she was going to make _sure_ were given the honors they deserved. But the knowledge that her efforts were probably going to succeed didn’t make that loss any easier to bear. _More names and faces to haunt me._ She thought bitterly, since she had joined the _Luftwaffe_ in 1938, she had seen dozens of aircrews and more than a couple of witches die, either killed by the Neuroi or in accidents.

She shoved those grim thoughts out of her head, she couldn’t show weakness. Not now, not after what was probably going to go down as Black Monday in the history of the 501st JFW. _It happened on my watch, I should’ve done **much** more to prepare for this mission and should’ve come up with a better plan in order to fill Mi6’s request. This was a complete disaster. _She thought bitterly as she walked, already planning on having a remembrance ceremony to put Mara, Anja, Nadia, Maristela, Dorothy, and Eriki on the Wall after Lynette was well enough to attend.

“Mio, I screwed up; I was a fool not having an additional squadron go out with Fortis as part of the QRF for the recon flight. If I had done that, then we probably wouldn’t have lost so many girls.” Minna found herself saying quietly.

Mio sighed in response as they entered the hanger for Fortis Squadron; already striker unit maintenance technicians were going over the damaged units. Already four units had been set aside with a sticker slapped on them that said “Beyond Repair; Scrapped”. Seeing that, it just drove home how horrifically this had backfired.

The Jipangese Squadron Leader dismounted from her striker units and shared a look with her Commanding Officer. “Minna,” she started, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, you and I know that full well. There was seemingly no reason to have Ghostrider and Indigo Squadrons on standby for a mission that was supposed to be a quick recon flight, get in and take the pictures, then bug out. But a lot of things are out of our control and you know that.”

“I _know_ , but the knowledge of what I could’ve done better….” she trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence hang, the realization of what had happened was sinking in.

Mio shook her head. “Commander, remember what I told you after we lost Airwitch Griet Prins over the Channel while defending a convoy?” she asked unexpectedly.

Minna started, shook out of her thoughts. “How could I not? She was the first witch that died after the 501st JFW was formed and to this day we still don’t know what was responsible. I wasn’t in a good place after that, kept on wondering what I could’ve done differently and I could barely focus on managing the unit. You snapped me out of it by saying that whatever had shot her down must have killed her instantly because she didn’t even shout that she had a bandit on her and that it was completely beyond my control. It made me realize that thinking about what I could have done to prevent her from dying was constantly eating away at me. That brought me out of it even though I still think about it.”

“Not entirely true with what I said that brought you out of that. But the fact that you did wonder what you could have done to prevent Griet from being killed is part of what makes you human. You blame yourself since you were the CO and thus was responsible for the girls under your command, just how I have that same responsibility for the fifteen girls under my command, which is a responsibility that I share with the other two squadron COs and you share with the Wing under your command. It's one thing to be a compassionate commander and care about those under your command, but if your too compassionate then it becomes hard to make tough decisions and it makes the pain of losing someone under your command much more difficult, likewise being too distant from those under your command, you could come off as callous. Trying to find the correct balance is what sets the good commanders apart from the great commanders.” Mio replied. 

One of the striker unit maintenance techs cursed loudly at the sight of something in the unit he was looking over. The man had obviously found something that wasn’t great with the striker unit he was going over.

“Yes it is and finding that balance is always tricky. But, the fact remains that we just lost six girls on a mission that went horrifically wrong, that’s the greatest shock of it all. I guess I just need time to process it and come to terms with it.” Minna said and her blank expression became a grimace.

Mio noticed it immediately. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“We need replacements and we can’t really afford to take more witches off the front here, but according to the regulations I got to anyway. Fortis Squadron needs to have recruitment done, I am going to be letting the Joint Chiefs know that one personally and I am also going to let them know that one of my girls died because we didn’t have a daytime healwitch here to begin with and I didn’t want to piss off the Royal Army Medical Corps by poaching one of their witches either.” Minna said allowing her shoulders to slump.

Mio sighed. “If you want me too, I can do scouting at one of the primary Imperial Jipangese Navy Air Arm academies for witches, while also teaching what I’ve learned here. So I am probably going to be gone for a couple of weeks at least. What was that Americaine phrase again? Striking two birds with a rock?.”

Minna despite the emotions she was feeling giggled. “It's killing two birds with one stone Mio.” she replied. “At any rate, I wouldn’t mind having someone other than a recruiter for the JFWs out looking for new witches to join up. Mainly because you would have a better idea of what to look for than us.”

Mio nodded in response. “That’s true and if we’re lucky maybe I can find us a healwitch. At any rate, this has been a hard day for all of us.” she said.

Minna couldn’t fute that statement, it was true after all.


	2. Rememberance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit, this chapter has gone through several revisions before it got to a point where I was happy with it and willing to post it here.

**June 19th, 1942**

**Near Rye, Britannia**

**Base of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing - Medical Wing**

Awareness came slowly to Lynette in fits and starts. 

She gradually gained feeling in her limbs and body as it returned. There was also pain, which she realized belatedly was a good thing. It meant that she wasn’t dead, though it was also quite painful with sharp soreness across her left shoulder, left side of her back, and left flank all had burning pain seeping through her. But it wasn’t as bad as she had last remembered it due to jagged fragments of Neuroi material being buried in those wounds which seemed to have been removed thankfully but  _ damn  _ did it hurt.

Despite that the bed was quite soft and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. She still vividly remembered the searing pain, blistering heat, and rolling overpressure that shook her to her core as the rocket fired by the Brute Heavy Fighter had detonated nearby. She just wanted to separate from that memory a little more and maybe get some additional rest. But that sense of wanting to  _ know _ where she was along with wanting to know what the bloody hell the warm feeling on her stomach was overpowering. 

Thus with a great force of effort she opened her eyes and was greeted with a view of the ceiling that wasn’t exactly vaulted but it wasn’t low either, it had various wooden cross beams and was made of stone; she could faintly hear birds chirping outside along with the staccato rumble of an engine, it was a Wright Hurricane engine, her foggy mind noted. Looking around, she saw sleeping contentedly on her stomach was her familiar, a Scottish Fold with straight ears named Fiona. 

She tried to sit up but the motion sent hot needles of pain racing across her shoulder and back, with a grunt of defeat she fell back onto her pillow. A moment later she heard a familiar voice to her right. “You're awake!”

She turned her head and there was Perrine, she was closing what looked like a book, though it could have been a journal or diary. The Britannian wasn’t sure, but she watched as Perrine adjusted her posture in the chair she was sitting in as Aramis adjusted himself as he slept. “How are you feeling Lynette?” she asked.

“Like I feel as though my little brothers have been climbing all over and sitting on me for a while, and I wouldn't mind if they stopped and let me rest for a bit.” Lynette found herself saying bluntly.

Perrine gave a giggling snort in response. “I see that your Britannian ability to understate things hasn’t been affected by your near death experience or the fact that you’ve been out for four days.” she said, the words may have sounded condescending, but her tone was anything  _ but _ .

“I thought I  _ was  _ going to die over Gallia, Perrine.  _ Mòran taing _ , for saving me out there, I know we lost Dorothy and that Maristela got banged up pretty badly.” Lynette said, Gaelic slipping into the sentence as she winced at the fact she had been apparently out for four days.

Perrine features contorted into a grimace that was somehow made scarier by her glasses. But the emotions that were in her eyes was anything but anger or pain, instead it was sadness. “Lynette, we lost not only Dorothy but also Maristela, Anja, Mara, Eriki, and Nadia.” The Gallian said simply.

“W-what?” she asked, stuttering as the shock of what Perrine had said sank in. 

“It’s true. We lost six witches out there, another ten had been wounded to varying degrees, and to top it all off eight striker units were damaged beyond repair. To put it simply this was a catastrophe!” Perrine said, her tone carrying an immense amount of sorrow as well as shock.

The Britannian gasped in shock, the revelation of six witches falling in one battle. “Mara’s gone, I, she’s been our flight leader for how long?” she asked.

“Ever since the 501st JFW was formed, hell if I remember right Mara practically poached you from the RAF because she saw you doing gunnery practice with a Boys Rifle a few months ago.” Perrine made a face as she spoke the name of the rifle, honestly you too had wondered why the standard Anti-Tank Rifle issued to RAF Witch Marksmen was called the  _ Boys  _ Rifle. “She said it was some of the best damn shooting she had ever seen.” 

Despite how Lynette felt at finding out so many comrades were now gone, a melancholic smile spreads across her lips as she remembered. “Oh aye, they reassigned me so fast, I barely had time to pack my kit bag.” The Britannian replied, thinking about it. 

Perrine looks sympathetic for a moment. “Militaries.” she said as if that explained everything.

The Britannian couldn’t help it, she laughed openly at the blunt statement from the Gallian, ignoring the ripples of pain that the action sent across her flank, back, and shoulders. Honestly, it was a good feeling, the ability to have  _ something _ that she could laugh at. “Be careful Lynette, you’ve been tended to by a healwitch, but you still needed a lot of stitches.” Perrine said after the Britannian finished her laughing fit.

Wait, stitches? Lynette gave the Gallian witch a look. “I received stitches?” she asked, surprised. 

“ _ Oui _ , you did for just over half of the eighty-two shrapnel injuries that you received from that Neuroi rocket.” Perrine then turned smug. “The chief medical officer wanted me to give you something.” she said.

Something told Lynette that Perrine was about to tell her something unpleasant. Instead the Gallian handed her something. Lynette picked it up and found that it was a small glass jar that was filled with darkish grey and black material. It took her a moment for her to realize that this was shrapnel. “Is this?” she asked.

“That’s all of the pieces of shrapnel that they pulled out of you, well most of it. Some of the smaller fragments managed to embed themselves in your ribs and couldn’t be removed. The doctor said that thanks to those fragments burying themselves there, it likely saved your life. Going to become problematic when you're older, said that if anything at least you got an interesting story to tell your family about.” Perrine answered with a shrug.

Huh, she hadn’t expected that at  _ all _ . She had expected some sort of get well card actually. “Is there a particular reason why the doctor decided to give me the shrapnel that he pulled out of me?” she asked seriously.

Perrine shrugged. “Something to have to remind you that you aren’t immortal.” the Gallian witch replied.

“Well at least it's an interesting conversation starter.” The Britannian found herself saying as she peered at the various fragments, it was hard to believe that these same jagged pieces just a few days ago had been buried in  _ her _ . She turned somber. “When are we going to put the others up on The Wall?”

Perrine sighed deeply. “Shortly after the doctor discharges you from the medical wing. At least that’s the plan.” 

Lynette thought back to when that Brute had been on her six o’clock, hounding her relentlessly with its rockets and plasma. That feeling of despair as she had rolled over onto her back a few times and fired back at her opponent, only to watch as the bullets mostly flew true but due to its strange shape the rounds had mostly skipped off the armor of the beast. Her Lewis Gun just couldn’t penetrate its armor while the thing had retaliated with searing red pulses and sinister contrails from its rocket-cannons. It honestly had rattled her, more than she cared to admit. 

“I see, I get the distinct feeling that I have gotten very lucky then.” The Britannian said as she stared at the fragments that could have likely ended her own life.

“You were quite lucky, but can you please do me a favor?” Perrine asked, truthfully.

“What?”

“Don’t  _ ever _ scare me like that again, when you screamed in pain. I damn near had a heart attack. I honestly don’t think I can bear losing another wingmate, after the Fall of Gallia and Operation: Dynamo and the losses my unit sustained there. The Neuroi cut down a lot of friends and comrades like they were wheat chaff, the Gallian Air Force despite watching the Neuroi tear through so many countries over the course of five years, they had  _ five  _ years and we made some preparations and learned to an extent from the BEF. But when it came down to it, we should have been able to stop them but due to our idiotic high command, the Neuroi just tore us apart. I don’t want to lose more friends, not if I can help it.” The Gallian said, shaking her head as she clasped her slightly quivering left hand with her right in order to stop the motion. 

Lynette thought about it, she thought about it deeply. She wanted to be truthful to her friend but she also knew deep down, that it was highly unlikely. War had proven itself to be a fine fickle thing that could run out at any given moment; it had for Mara who had been fighting the Neuroi since practically Day One when they first appeared. Now, the Dacian was gone as she had willingly sacrificed herself to save Fortis Squadron and the South African that had served as her wingwitch since the 501st JFW was first formed had followed her faithfully out of this life and into living memory. Just thinking about that and looking at the glass jar in her hands that was filled with the Neuroi fragments that had threatened her life. She took in a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. “You know that I can’t keep that promise, luck in war is too fickle. For all I know, the next time I go up, it could be my last.”

Perrine nodded. “I know and that’s the hard part about it, just promise me that you’ll be careful alright?” the Gallian asked.

That was something that Lynette honestly, could agree too. It never hurt as a fighter witch to be on the cautious side. It was likely thanks to Minna’s decision to send out all of Fortis Squadron to serve as the QRF for their little recon flyby that the two of them were even having this conversation to begin with. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind being more careful; I am still not used to operating as a fighter witch with a Lewis Gun. That combat instinct wasn’t really honed in flight school due to me being a marksman, if I get a fighter on my tail then something has gone horribly wrong.” she said.

The Gallian witch cracked a smile. “True,” she then turned serious. “Also, Lynette, your strikers got wrecked in the crash.”

Upon hearing that, the Britannian slumped her head back against her pillow. “I  _ liked _ those strikers, they had blazing speed and maneuvered like an absolute dream, with them it felt like I could do anything.” she said glumly. 

Perrine gave her a look that was sympathetic. “I understand that feeling, for what it's worth. My strikers were totalled too, so at the moment I am in the same boat as you are. I have no means to fly.either, so I am grounded too.” she said.

_ So that’s what we are now? Two fighter witches without strikers to fly, our wings have been clipped.  _ Lynette found herself thinking sadly. “Guess we won’t be able to fly for a while then, unless you want to try to fly broomsticks against those things?.” she joked to her friend.

The Gallian fixed her with a flat stare. “I’m neither that brave nor that dumb.”

Lynette sighed. “I suppose our wings really have been clipped then.”

Perrine shook her head. “Don’t start thinking like that, you have got to remember that the Wing Commander has at least a few friends in high places. Both of us will be flying again before you know it.”

Hearing that allowed some of the stress of not being able to fly out of her shoulders. “Yeah, but  _ what  _ will we be flying?” she asked.

Perrine shrugged. “Likely Spitfires, probably Mark Vbs, but who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both get those new Mark IXs. I’ve only heard rumors about them, but what rumors I have heard about them is that they are  _ exceptionally _ better than previous models of Spitfire at high altitudes in all areas.” she said in a conversational tone.

Lynette being a member of the Royal Air Force was a bit more in the know about the capabilities of the newest Spitfire model and its striker unit derivative. However, even she thought that what little she had heard about its performance was blown completely out of proportion, having something capable of reaching altitudes in excess of 11,500-meters and capable of going damn near 600-km/h at that altitude? Absolutely insane and likely not possible at all. Plus it would likely be bloody cold up there at that altitude and would their weapons even function at that altitude? 

“I’ve heard a bit more about it, but I am skeptical about the performance figures I’ve heard about it, particularly the striker model. I mean, from what I’ve heard through the rumor mills is that apparently the Mark IX Spitfire striker units can reach a maximum altitude of over 13,000-meters and at 6,400-meters can go at 650-km/h and with a speed talent can achieve just over 800-km/h. Honestly, they seem to be blown way out of proportion compared to what is plausible.” The Britannian said in a tone that was skeptical.

Perrine whistled, obviously impressed. “Knowing the engineers at Supermarine? They probably did manage to put something like that together, I mean look at the Spitfire Mark V for example, one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen, bar none.” the Gallian said in response.

Lynette hummed in agreement, she couldn’t dispute that. The Supermarine Spitfire alongside the Hawker Hurricane had become a staple of the Royal Air Force for a  _ damn _ good reason after all. It would make sense that they would continue refining the design, but that didn’t change the fact that the specifications for the latest model seemed overblown. But what if they  _ had _ made the Mark IX just that good? I mean, she had heard rumors that said it was just that good but she wasn’t sure.

Her thoughts drifted to a different topic, one of her comrades. “Perrine?” she asked in a soft voice.

The Gallian looked like she had been about to stand up, but now she paused. “ _ Oui _ ?” she asked.

“Remember when Nadia decided to use her magic ability in order to start a fire in the  _ teallach _ ?” Lynette asked.

Perrine smiled as her eyes grew distant, remembering their fallen comrade. “And instead of igniting the firewood she overdid it a little and caused the wood to fracture with such force that everyone in the common room and kitchen thought someone had fired a gun in the room? How can I not remember that?”

Lynette suppressed a laugh as she was mindful of her stitches. “Then about a half-dozen Britannian MPs came in with guns drawn thinking someone had lost their marbles and had decided to shoot up the common room. Instead they gave Nadia quite a stiff talking too about overdoing it and saying that due to the fact that they then had paperwork to fill out, they really weren’t happy.” she said. 

Perrine broke out laughing. “Then she got chewed out by both Squadron Leader Sakamoto  _ and  _ Wing Commander Wilcke for doing that. In a sense it was sort of stupid, but then again.” she shrugged as if saying ‘We’re part of the military, but we’re also young and thus stupidity is to be expected at times’.

Lynette snickered. “Honestly, I wonder how Major Sakamoto managed to stay completely sane while commanding Fortis Squadron.  _ Sinn  _ **are** a pretty eccentric bunch after all.” she said as she remembered those happy times.

“That’s probably a secret that we will never learn, that said she has a good head on her shoulders and knows when to give the right orders.” Perrine replied as she thought about it. “I actually heard rumors that she’s going to be heading to Jipang in order to oversee scouting efforts there.”

Lynette hummed in thought. “Well that’s good to hear. I just wish that I got a better chance to know everyone better.” she said as her thoughts started wandering.

“I know that feeling, it's no secret that replacements suffer more heavily in experienced units than the combat veterans.” The Gallian answered.

The Britannian didn’t answer, she was so lost in her thoughts about her deceased squadron mates and the happy times that she had with them that she didn’t notice Perrine standing up till she said. “I am going to tell the doctor that you're awake.” with that she walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

**June 19th, 1942**

**Base of the 501st JFW - Common Room**

The common room of the 501st JFW didn’t look like much, it had a couple of couches, a few love seats, and a red brick hearth that often during the winter contained a crackling fire to keep the room warm with a radio on the mantle. Surprisingly the room also had wood floors that while they showed some signs have been installed for a while, were meticulously maintained Additionally there were large windows that looked out towards the English Channel which lay beyond the Straits that the castle overlooked from its perch on the Isle of Oxney. A glittering mat of water that sparkled in the Britannian sun as it stretched out to the horizon.

In the opinion of Zulfa al-Hariri, the base was a nice place but Britannia was compared to her native Persia, the climate was not what she preferred. Persia was hot and dry, with the only form of weather being the odd rain shower and more commonly great dust storms that soared to thousands of feet into the air. Britannia on the other hand was typically sunny and cool, cloudy and cool, or wet and cool. Of the three, she decided that she hated wet and cool the most, because of how  _ unnatural  _ it felt, back home it rained only a few times a year. Here it seemed like it rained at least once a week. The only good news in this was that she hadn’t been assigned to Ruthenia, she doubted that she could handle what Ruthenia could do for weather. Particularly given how bad the winter had been and that they had something called snow. She shuddered, the idea of crystallized water falling to the ground was completely and utterly  _ foreign  _ to her.

“Hey, Zulfa?” A voice asked from behind her.

The Persian turned to face the voice, her shoulder length black hair fanning out slightly behind her as she did so, fixing the person who had spoken with her intense dark brown eyes. She recognized the person as Flight Sergeant Astri Nordrum, a Baltland witch from the Oslo area. “Yes Astri, what’s the matter?” she answered.

Astri looked back and forth nervously, the Baltlander hadn’t quite been the same after the Neuroi had taken the capital of Baltland, which had also doubled as her hometown. From what she had read and heard, the Neuroi invasion of the country had been pretty damn brutal, requiring a fairly hefty intervention from Britannian, Sumous, Ruthenian, and Americaine forces to stop them from overwhelming the country completely. “Do you ever have nightmares where you relive battles where you had friends killed?” the Baltlander asked, her piercing blue eyes seemingly boring into her.

Zulfa sighed. “Astri, I wish I could say for a fact that I don’t. But truthfully? I do have those nightmares. Before I joined the 501st JFW, I volunteered to join the Royal Air Force in early 1940, myself along with nine other witches and eight fighter pilots was given the designation of the No. 338 and No. 339 RAF Squadrons. Let’s just say that at times, it wasn’t exactly a fun time. The Neuroi were experimenting with new formations for their bombers, mostly Albatrosses but occasionally Porcupines would also show up. Over the course of six months, five of the Persian pilots were killed in action along with a witch. I knew every single one of them, so it was difficult at times and I still have nightmares about it.” she said as she looked at her friend and sister-in-arms. 

Astri looked relieved at her saying, that caused Zulfa to suppress a frown. Something here wasn’t quite right. “Ma’am, I am having trouble sleeping due to all the damn nightmares that I am having. Baltland was in no way prepared for the Neuroi to invade when they did, we were fools thinking that the  _ Skagerrak _ would have provided sufficient deterrent. Most of the witches we had were using older pre-Miyafuji designs and a few groups still had brooms; I watched a lot of friends get killed by the Neuroi and it seems like every night when I close my eyes, I watch them die all over again.” she said glumly. 

Ah, that explained it. The poor girl wanted some guidance on how to handle this, which makes sense particularly given that Fortis Squadron had just suffered obscene losses. It had already been called Black Monday by some and the name appeared to be sticking. It had dragged up bad memories for Astri, it had for her after all. 

“I know what you mean, what happened on Monday drew up bad memories for me as well. Everyone seems to be down about it, probably because the Neuroi reminded us quite brutally that we are mortal, that they can send us to an early grave just as easily. It's making all of us realize that against the Neuroi, the next time we go up, it might be our last time. I’ve learned to not fear death, though having a few close brushes with him may play a role in that.” she said, her own words mirroring the thoughts she had been thinking about over the past few days as she gestured for her to have a seat.

“Really?” Astri asked curiously as she sat down across from her squadron leader.

“Yeah, the Neuroi reminds us that even witches are mortal. It was bound to happen sooner or later. We got lucky that it happened now rather than say a year from now, otherwise the morale hit would’ve been even worse. That said, you wanted to know how I deal with the nightmares?” Zulfa asked as she looked at the Baltlander.

Astri nodded furiously and her expression brightened. “Yes please! I want to know how you deal with them.” she asked, her voice hopeful. 

Zulfa allowed herself to smile. “I’ve found that the first step for this is coming to terms with what happened. That’s the hardest part honestly, is just coming to terms with the deaths of my squadron mates. Additionally, meditating and trying to find your center also helps greatly.” 

“Really?” Astri asked. “That’s, simpler than I thought it would be.”

Zulfa sighed. “I wish, it can be hard to make peace with yourself that they are gone. The ‘should haves’ and ‘could haves’ will torment you without a doubt. You got to accept the fact that there was nothing you could have done to prevent them from dying first. Only then can meditation really begin to help with getting over those demons, but the fact that we blame ourselves for our comrades dying even if we couldn’t have done anything to prevent it is what makes us human.” she said in a melancholic tone. 

Astri lowered her head and sighed. “But ma’am, what if I  _ know _ that I could have done something to prevent the death of a comrade?” she asked.

_ Crap, that is more difficult. _ Zulfa thought as she heard the Baltlander say those words. “Then in that case, it becomes a lot harder. The easiest thing I can think of is just openly talking about the incident in question while trying to avoid the “should haves” and “could haves”. Just telling someone about the incident truthfully can help greatly. Keeping the details of such an incident bottled up isn’t good for you, another thing that could help is writing the incident down without blemishing it.” the Persian replied, her words soft and caring.

“I see, so who should I go to then to talk about this?” Astri asked.

Zulfa thought about that, there was herself obviously. But she knew that there were several others as well who would also work in a situation like this. “I wouldn’t mind talking it over with you, but I will say that I am probably not the best for it because honestly, the one time the squadron I was in lost someone. I didn’t notice until after the battle was over and we all formed back up into our respective flights that we had lost someone. It must have been instant or close to it because there was no distress signal or anything, so most of us didn’t realize that it had happened until after the fact. Someone who is much better though would be the Wing Commander or Flight Lieutenant Barkhorn, they both know what it's like to go through this. More so than I do at any rate.” she said, shaking her head in response. 

“Oh.” Astri replied looking down. “Flight Lieutenant Barkhorn seems so distant and unfriendly at times.” the Baltlander’s face paled slightly. “Plus, I find her to be scary at times.”

Zulfa laughed quietly. “I think  _ everyone _ finds Flight Lieutenant Barkhorn to be a little intimidating, with possibly the exception of the Wing Commander.” she said.

That likely wasn’t an understatement, mainly because of just how intimidating the Germanian witch was. There were times when she came off as incredibly strict as well and was all about enforcing regulations. Yet at the same time, Zulfa also had heard rumors that if you managed to crack her shell, that she was also a very kind person.

Astri cracked a small smile. “Probably.” her expression changed to that of gratitude. “Thank you, ma’am. I am going to see the Wing Commander then about this later today.” she said.

“Not a problem Astri. Part of my job is, after all, is making sure that the girls in Ghostrider Squadron don’t crack under the pressure of this damned war.” Zulfa replied with a pleasant smile.

Astri nodded and then stood up, the Pilot Officer went to salute, which Zulfa returned. With that done, the Baltlander left, leaving the Persian alone with her thoughts. Honestly, the battering that Fortis Squadron had taken, it had everyone in her squadron scared. The enemy had killed so many of them and seemingly so easily, they were  _ right _ to be scared; hell she was scared. 

She shook her head and stood up, she wanted to get a better idea of how her squadron was feeling at the moment and how they were taking this. With this in mind she thought about where her fellow squadron members would be, she decided that it would be best to first check outside. With that she left the common room behind and started walking.

She just hoped that she could keep the spirits of her squadron up after what had happened on Monday. Morale throughout the unit was sagging and to be frank, even she wasn’t sure if they would see an end to this damn war. After Operations Dynamo, Styx **[2]** , Mercury **[2]** , and Skidbladnir **[2]** which had resulted in them being driven almost completely out of Europe with the only holdouts being Hispana, Ruthenia, Helvetia, Romagna, Suomus, Ostman, the northern portion of Baltland, and of course Britannia.

Her feet carried her outside to the courtyard, from here she could enjoy the smell of the sea. She could hear the rumble of Merlin engines somewhere overhead, probably an RAF fighter pair heading out to patrol the English Channel. Those were constantly in motion it seemed. She was pleased to see that several of her squadron mates were discussing something, but was curious as to  _ what _ it was, thus she wandered to them.

“Squadron Leader on deck!” Pilot Officer Zhuan Chen of the Nationalist Chinese Air Force said when she spotted her walking towards them. The half dozen members of Ghostrider squadron present scrambled to attention.

“At ease, this isn’t a formal visit.” Zulfa said simply and everyone relaxed and went back to sitting down. 

“Ma- I mean, Zulfa, is something wrong?” Flight Lieutenant Lempi Seppänen of Soumus asked with curiosity in her steely grey eyes as her silver hair framed her face. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I am just interested to know what you're talking about.” She said.

“Oh” Lempi said, she looked left and right nervously. “We were just talking about what happened on Monday, wondering how things might have gone if we were there as additional support to Fortis. I mean, we were sitting on our butts for the most part while Fortis was getting its ass kicked.” 

Zulfa realized belatedly that she should’ve expected this. Her squadron hadn’t been pleased about being left on the bench while Fortis had gone out on a recon mission and wound up fighting and dying. It was something that honestly irked her quite significantly, but then again they needed to maintain a low profile for the mission. Didn’t help matters though, six girls were dead and only two of them were going to get a proper burial to boot, most of them had been lost over the Channel and had been dragged to the bottom by the remains of their strikers or over Gallia where their corpse would have been recovered by the Neuroi. 

“I see.” she replied at hearing those words. “I feel that we could have been on ready five and then we probably would have arrived to assist Fortis Squadron earlier. But, what happened has happened and we shouldn’t take it out on the Wing Commander either. When this wing is at full strength, the Wing Commander has nearly sixty fighter witches to keep track of, can you imagine how difficult it is to manage that many girls?”

The various members of her squadron all looked at each other. “Oh, I had no idea; I mean, sixty witches? That’s somewhat oversized for a fighter witch wing isn’t it?” Flying Officer Ariane Callens of Belgica asked. 

Zulfa was in-agreement, sixty witches  _ is  _ oversized for a witch wing. Then again, maybe it wasn’t; they had a night witch squadron that had only two witches and three daytime witch squadrons each with a nominal strength of sixteen witches, plus the command flight which had four witches certified for both day and night time operations. Plus they had a few scattered witches in the day squadrons that at the very least had training in night fighter operations. There was also the detachment of Coastal Command assigned to the 501st JFW Base even though they weren’t part of the 501st JFW which had several Hudsons and Beaufighters at their disposal along with a handful of witches operating those models of striker units. But she believed that part of the reasoning why the unit was so large was because the base was located in a position where they could easily scramble to intercept Neuroi raids heading towards London as well as several other strategic locations.

“It is, but I believe that it's due to the fact that we got quite a lot of ground to cover and due to our location were almost equidistant to both London and Portsmouth, plus Dover is nearby as well. Additionally, due to our location we are often assigned to escort duty for bombers heading into Gallia and for witches that’s a pretty draining mission for us, thus we need additional witches to compensate. Additionally, we’re also responsible for the defense of Chain Home and Chain Home Low in this area which means we got quite a bit to cover.” Zulfa said in response. 

“I guess that does make sense, I honestly hadn’t thought about all of those various angles actually. Now the size makes sense.” Ariane replied with a firm nod.

She saw that the others were nodding in response to her words as well as Ariane’s. But she could tell that they still had questions. “Ma’am, I mean Zulfa, do you think that given what happened on Monday, that our doctrine regarding recon missions will change?” Flight Lieutenant Nina May of the RAF asked.

That was another question that Zulfa had expected and one that she had asked the Wing Commander about. “Yes, it will for coastal recon flights; the Wing Commander believes that part of the reason that the Neuroi responded with such overwhelming force was because we had sent in so many witches. They thought it was an assault on the Caen Hive and hence they brought such overwhelming numbers to bear. In the future, recon missions aren’t going to have an available QRF.” she replied, reciting what Minna had told her. 

Nina and the others glanced at each other. “But isn’t that a bad idea?” Lempi asked.

Zulfa shook her head, honestly she didn’t think that it  _ was _ a bad idea. In her opinion while it had a chance to go horribly wrong, chances were that it wouldn’t. “I don’t think so, mainly because it's less obvious to have just four witches doing a flight than sixteen going out.” she said.

Lempi nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But why was the entirety of Fortis Squadron sent out to begin with?” she asked.

Zulfa hummed in response, honestly she had an idea as to  _ why _ the entirety of Fortis Squadron was sent out and it was one that made a hell of a lot of sense. Didn’t make it any less hard to bear. “I  _ think _ that it had to do with the fact that we were going after a Neuroi hive. Those things have an immense amount of defenses. The Wing Commander obviously thought that the Neuroi would scramble a heavy defense against even a simple recon flight.” she said.

Shocked looks passed through the assembled witches, everything suddenly clicked into place. It all made sense as to what had led to that botched recon flight. For Zulfa, she could also see the reasoning for the heavy QRF, it now made so much more sense. Neuroi hives were known to have heavy defenses, which meant the Wing Commander had taken a gamble by sending in an entire squadron to do a recon flight. She had obviously feared that the Neuroi response would have too many fighters and maybe mediums and/or large types for a single flight to overcome, thus she had sent the entire squadron. In the end, it had backfired and resulted in six witches dead. 

That said, from one perspective, Zulfa found that she couldn’t fault the Wing Commander either. They barely knew anything about the Neuroi and thus erring on the side of caution was a wise decision, yet seeing it backfire? She couldn’t imagine how the Wing Commander felt.

“Remember the time when Dorothy decided it would be a good idea to go fishing while flying from her striker units?” Nina asked suddenly. 

Zulfa couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “Yeah, we thought she was crazy and more than one of us told her that she wasn’t going to catch anything! Then something  _ big _ took the hook and almost pulled her in the water!”

Zhuan joined in the laughter. “Then she managed to get it to the surface she promptly shrieked” the Chinese witch then did her best impression of the deceased Americaine “‘There’s a fucking  _ shark _ on the hook!’”

Ariane snickered. “Sanya who had been keeping an eye on her wingwitch promptly told Dorothy to give her the rod and then told her to cut the line as close to the hook as possible.” the Belgican witch added with a giggle. 

“Yeah, then after Dorothy cut the line as the shark was taking off, it smacked her in the face with its abnormally large tailfin. Leaving the poor girl sputtering as she tried to spit the saltwater and mucus out of her mouth while trying to stem the blood from her broken nose.” Zhuan finished with a laugh.

“I think that’s one of the few times Sanya has legitimately laughed at someone else’s misfortune; still that was an enormous amount of karma there, and not the good kind either.” Nina said with a smile.

Zulfa snorted. “Yeah, there certainly was. Remember how Squadron Leader Sakamoto reacted?” she asked as she remembered the incident in question. Mio’s reaction had been hilarious to say the least, word of the unflappable leader of Fortis Squadron facepalming at the incident had spread like wildfire across the base. 

“Didn’t she put her face in her hands and mutter something about how bad luck screwed up a really great idea?” Lempi asked in response..

Zhuan grunted. “She did after hearing about the incident from Sanya on the radio. I thought it was the funniest thing I have ever heard. But I think the best part was when the rumors about how it was apparently a  _ planned _ excursion for a new type of training for us to see if it would work started floating about. Something about simulating the increased drag from carrying a fellow witch who had wrecked her strikers.” she said.

Ariane snickered. “That explains why Major Sakamoto decided to go with the plan in the first place. She likely figured that if it worked, she could add another piece of training to the hellish regime that she put the 501st JFW through. Probably also explains the facepalm, mainly because it only really works if you catch something that doesn’t drag  _ you  _ into the water instead of dragging whatever is on the line  _ out  _ of the water.” she said.

To Zulfa, that entire incident suddenly  _ clicked _ , now it made sense as to why it happened. It had been an attempt to try something new for training. The fact that it had backfired so spectacularly just made it even more funny compared to the usual shenanigans that happened around the base was the reason why it hadn’t been adopted. “Well now that makes a whole lot of sense, I always wondered what the hell Dorothy was thinking when she did that stunt, but now I know. Didn’t she get a nickname out of that?” she asked.

Lempi laughed. “She did, someone after that incident called her ‘Sharkbait’ and it stuck.” 

There was a moment of silence, then everyone burst out laughing as they remembered the antics of a fallen friend. It was a good feeling as it made the heaviness and the sorrow that had been resting over them for the past couple of days recede somewhat. It made them all realize that no matter how gloomy the situation became, they all had a future where they could  _ win _ and see the Neuroi pushed back. 

_ We can win this war, it's always darkest before dawn, but I get the feeling that this is merely humanity’s darkest hour. We just need something to show that the Neuroi can be beaten decisively if only to give us  _ hope _. _ She thought, putting a slight damper on her mood. The conflict with the Neuroi had seemingly no end in sight.

“Why are you looking so glum?” Nina asked her suddenly, her green eyes framed by fair skin and black hair.

Zulfa blinked and shook herself out of her stupor. “Just thinking how we need something, no,  _ anything _ to show us that this war isn’t hopeless that the Neuroi can be defeated. We’re stopping them now, but can we honestly  _ win _ against them? I do not know and I want to go home at some point in the future.” she said.

There was silence for several long moments from the others. Finally Ariane spoke up “Zulfa, let’s not focus on that, there are people who are much higher ranked than us that have to worry about that. So, let's just focus on remembering our fallen comrades.” she said.

“Right.” Zulfa replied, but her thoughts once again wandered towards the war effort.

“Remember when Francesca saw Anja sleep-walking that one time and decided to wake up everyone else in Fortis Squadron to make sure that Anja wouldn’t hurt herself?” Lempi asked in a mirthful voice.

All thoughts of the war effort vanished as everyone broke out laughing as they remembered that particular incident. The antics from  _ that _ particular night had been burned into Zulfa’s memory and she knew that it was impossible for her to forget them. Probably the most amusing moment of that night happened when Perrine stepped on a rake and then thinking it was a Neuroi, had blasted it with lightning and the resulting crack of thunder caused  _ everyone _ except Anja to wake up. Though needless to say, Wing Commander Wilcke had  _ not _ been amused in the slightest by the whole affair and wasn’t happy with Perrine in particular.

Zulfa couldn’t help but join in as they discussed the antics of their deceased friends, it was their own way of remembering them.

* * *

**June 19th, 1942**

**Base of the 501st JFW - The Memorial Wall**

The Memorial Wall wasn’t so much a wall as it was an alcove that had been built into the hallway that ran from the hangers to barracks, that hallway however served as a major junction as it technically ended at the common room. Regardless, seeing the pictures of the fallen, along with the names and date of birth and date of death, along with confirmed kills, as well as the designation of either Killed in Action, Killed in Training, etc. served two purposes. The first was to keep the memory of the fallen alive so that they wouldn’t be forgotten and the second was to serve as a reminder that witches weren’t truly invincible against the Neuroi despite what some propaganda may have said.

_ I hate this part of the job. _ Minna thought bitterly as she adjusted her uniform, she was in her full dress, just like everyone else. The number of faces here was extensive, all witches of the 501st JFW were here along with the majority of the pilots and witches assigned to the Coastal Command detachment, additionally members of staff such as striker technicians and armory quartermasters were here. 

“Thank you everyone for coming.” she started, keeping her voice steady. “I know that this should have been done sooner, but I wanted to make sure that everyone from Fortis Squadron could attend.” she said, tipping her head towards Lynette who was sitting in a wheelchair; the Britannian witch nodded in thanks. 

Nods and murmurs of agreement swept through the room at those words. She gave a sorrowful sigh as she continued. “As many of you know, on Monday, our planned recon mission of the Neuroi Hive that’s over Caen went horribly wrong. Out of the sixteen witches of Fortis Squadron that slipped the surly bonds of Earth that day, six vanished into that clear deep blue sky to never return. We will forever remember them.” she said.

Now came the hardest part, the final roll call before the names of the fallen were struck from the active roster. This part always hurt the most, knowing that she had to call out those names twice, before marking them absent. Everytime she did it, one part of her  _ longed _ to hear their voice calling out “Present” or “Here”, but as always, the deceased never answered her call. Just  _ looking _ at the assembled witches of Fortis Squadron was painful, because she could see six gaps among the witches there, each one indicating a fallen sister-in-arms.

What made the roll call the most painful in her own opinion, was the fact that as she read out the rolls. Those who  _ were _ at the ceremony would say “Here” or “Present”, which further drove home the point that those girls were gone, the sun would never grace their faces again nor would their voices grace the ears of those who were alive ever again.

The worst part was because unlike the previous times where it was bad luck, this time it was her fault alone that these six girls were dead. That their families were being notified that their daughters or sisters had fallen in the skies over Gallia.

Finally she came to the last name on the rolls for Fortis Squadron. “Flight Sergeant Eriki Witika” she barked in the sharp and authoritative tone of the commanding officer of the 501st JFW. For one long moment, she found herself wishing that this was just like any other time they called roll and that Eriki was about to burst into the room panting having somehow slept through The Rouse  _ again _ and had hurriedly dressed before sprinting to where they were, calling out present just before she called her name again.

It wasn’t to be. 

No one spoke up, the person who was called wasn’t alive anymore. Respect for the fallen. “Flight Sergeant Eriki Witika!” she barked again, more forceful, more demanding of an answer. That hope that she held that Eriki would show up at any moment slowly faded away to nothing, that feeling of realization settled in that she was really gone. 

The answer wasn’t given, Eriki like five others had vanished into the Azure skies never to return to Earth on that dreary Monday. With a heavy heart, she said those words. “Flight Sergeant Eriki Witika, absent.” just saying that, it felt like someone had driven an icy cold spike into her chest. For a moment she thought that she heard Mara’s voice in her ear, but she couldn’t make out the words fully and then the feeling was gone. Tears threatened to spill forth once again, but she blinked them back; the hardest part was coming up.

They were all still at attention and saluting now, the hardest part came before Ich hatt' einen Kameraden **[3]** played. Outside the building, visible through the open windows, a Britannian NCO in-charge began barking out those commands.

“Ready!” the man ordered, five bolts closed with barely audible  _ clicks _ . 

“Aim!” On the command, five Lee Enfield No. 4 Rifles rose into the sky, their barrels gleaming slightly in the afternoon sun.

“Fire!” The NCO shouted, Minna flinched as the five rifles discharged with a thunderous simultaneous set of  _ cracks _ that sent stabs of flame erupting from their muzzles.

The process repeated itself two more times, with each discharge resulting in the Wing Commander as well as several others flinching at the sharp  _ cracks _ .

“Present arms!” the NCO shouted and those Enfields were shifted to a different position.

Then those somber drums started, followed by what was either a mournful trumpet or bugle, she couldn’t tell the difference. Then the singer started to sing, everyone knew the lyrics and the meaning behind the words was  _ heavy _ , particularly considering this variant of the song had been drafted specifically for the Luftwaffe Witch Corps, but had been selected due to the fact that it  _ didn’t _ pertain to any particular religion, focusing more on the moment of losing a comrade-in-arms. 

“ _ Ich hatt' einen Kameraden, _

_ Einen bessern findst du nit. _

_ Die Trommel schlug zum Streite, _

_ Er ging an meiner Seite _

_ In gleichem Schritt und Tritt. _ ” the singer said as the drum continued its mournful roll as the trumpet or bugle seemingly receded from play, but it was still their, playing long low notes.

“ _ Die Kugel flog durch den Schild. _

_ Bin ich dran oder deins? _

_ Sie war temperamentvoll weg, _

_ Sie liegt gebrochen auf dem Boden unter mir, _

_ Als ob sie von mir getrennt wäre. _ ” the song continued, those sorrowful notes continuing. Something flashed across Mio’s face as the fourth and fifth lines were sung. While her own vision began to blur from tears that were now coming forth. Others were looking teary-eyed as the lyrics continued into the final verse.

“ _ Will mir die Hand noch reichen, _

_ Derweil ich eben lad. _

_ Kann dir die Hand nicht geben, _

_ Bleib du im ew'gen Leben _

_ Mein guter Kamerad. _ ” the singer finished the tune, the words seemingly hanging in the air as the notes from the drum and trumpet or bugle shortly afterwards faded away. Several witches from all four squadrons were openly crying with several of the younger witches on the verge of bawling. It would be a lie to say that Minna wasn’t among those crying, albeit she was doing so silently, she failed in her duty on that day and had resulted in wasting those six lives because they hadn’t gained much at all from the mission.

They still needed to be put on the Wall, thus blinking her tears away. She went to the wall and first hung up the picture of the witch, followed by snapping the highly polished black plates with bronze lettering into place. A plate for the rank, name, date of birth and date of death, along with the number of kills they had acquired. It felt like each sharp  _ snap _ of the plate fitting into place was like a railroad spike being driven into her heart. She repeated this process six times and finally with a heavy heart she stepped away, revealing six additional smiling faces next to plaques. 

One last thing to do. “ATTEN-SHUN!” she barked and everyone came to attention, because as she suspected, some had unknowingly lost that posture to try and deal with the tears. That didn’t matter, they all came to attention and saluted the smiling faces.

They held that salute for several long moments before finally,  _ finally _ she said “At ease.” and the hundred plus people relaxed their posture. The ceremony was complete and with a heavy heart, Minna turned and said “Dismissed.” 

Everyone filed out and she headed towards her quarters. She just barely managed to close the door before her grief came too much and she openly cried for her fallen comrades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] - The .55-caliber Boys Anti-Tank Rifle serves as the primary rifle for marksmen witches within the RAF, naturally the name of the rifle is a source of much amusement among the witches of the Britannian Armed Forces. Originally the weapon was to be called the Stanchion Anti-Tank Rifle, but a few days before the weapon was approved for manufacture, the designer of the weapon Captain Henry C. Boys, the Assistant Superintendent of Design--1885-1937, passed away. As a mark of respect, the rifle was renamed to honor him.
> 
> [2] - Operation Styx - The Allied Evacuation of forces in Greece that couldn’t reach what would become known as the Athens Pocket.
> 
> Operation Mercury - The Allied Evacuation of Crete
> 
> Operation Skidbladnir - An Allied Evacuation that served to evacuate forces from southern Baltland and unload additional troops around the Narvik area before pushing south to liberate the Atlantic and North Sea coasts. This didn’t exactly succeed but the Allies were able to open a corridor into Suomus. 
> 
> [3] - Ich hatt' einen Kameraden or “I had a comrade” is a poem/song used throughout the world for military funerals; the nations of Germany, the Netherlands, Japan, France, Spain, and Austria among other nations have used it. It's notable for describing the immediate experience of losing a comrade, detached from all national and political ideology. The variant seen in the chapter is of my own creation made specifically for the Luftwaffe Witch Corps, please note that I put it together in about ten minutes and I don’t speak German at all so if it's wrong. 
> 
> |4| - Foreign Language words:  
> Mòran taing - Gaelic - Thank You  
> Oui - French - Yes  
> Teallach - Gaelic - Fireplace  
> Sinn - Gaelic - We


	3. Defense, Maquis, A Thrown Gauntlet!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces not only the character everyone recognizes as the Heroine of Strike Witches, but also my take on combat involving fighter striker units and also introduces a group of Maquis. The main inspiration for this chapter are as follows: 
> 
> Iron Maiden’s Aces High  
> The 1969 film Battle of Britain  
> The 1962 film The Longest Day  
> The 1986 film Top Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN - Well that took much longer than I expected, but honestly while this chapter does seem a little more light-hearted. That’s because it's supposed to be, the event that happened on Black Monday isn’t going to be the norm but really just bad luck. However, expect more deaths to occur within the 501st JFW before this story is finished. 
> 
> Also, brief note. Lynette's English is a bit different from the second chapter. This has to do with the fact that she's speaking in a professional environment and thus is using more standard English. Though she does have a Highland Scot accent. 
> 
> Please be aware that I am trying to capture the mindset of the 1940s, hence Racism is a thing.

**June 21st, 1942**

**Base of the 501st JFW - Wing Commander’s Office**

The office of the commanding officer of the 501st JFW was fairly spacious, there was a great mahogany desk in the room along with several rather comfortable chairs, the floors like almost everywhere else in the base were hardwood that had aged considerably but was still practically pristine despite that. Several book shelves lined the walls filled with books, along with a medal case, and pictures from her previous units as well as one of Kurt. 

Today however, Minna was sitting behind her desk. It had been two days since the funeral. Now she had the unsavory task of figuring out what to do with Fortis Squadron, the unit had been battered, worse several new strikers were required and most likely retraining as well. It meant that the wing would be down a squadron for a while, not something that was very savory given the alternatives. But she would be forced to make due anyways, but she could use this as an opportunity. She had heard rumors that America was planning on instituting a new system of training by rotating pilots with combat experience to the rear where they could teach what they had learned in the skies to the new recruits. 

The more she thought about it, the more she liked that idea, until Fortis Squadron had enough confirmed transfers and/or recruits, she would send out some of her witches to help train new recruits so that they knew what to expect from the Neuroi. It would probably help reduce the casualty rates by a substantial amount. Maybe she could use it here and help reduce the beating that the RAF was taking from the Neuroi and hopefully prove to the Americans that it would work, which would then speed up its implementation. 

At that moment, the telephone rang, disrupting her thought process. Minna picked it up before it could ring twice and answered. “Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke, Commander of the 501st JFW speaking.” she said out of habit.

Her grip tightened around the phone and then she answered quickly “Yessir! 501st JFW is moving!” with that she slammed the receiver down and grabbed the sound powered phone that served as the base intercom and yelled “ _Scramble!_ I repeat, _all sections scramble!_ ” 

Moments later a piercing wail filled the air as she calmly stood up and then ran out of her office down the hallway before going down a flight of stairs, her familiar two steps behind her. Her hands working on autopilot as she fitted the radio plug in her ear that drew a small amount of mana in order to operate then she checked her Walther P-38 and after confirming it was indeed loaded she slipped the weapon back into its holster.

“Status on scramble!” Minna barked as she ran through the common room, witches from the other squadrons doing the same. 

“ _We’re at time plus one minute thirty seconds commander, flights are still getting assembled for takeoff. If we hurry it up, at the rate we’re going we can be in the air just under required time if we beat the Coastal Pukes in taking off._ ” Barkhorn replied sharply.

Minna sighed as she replied. “Affirmative, flights once assembled are clear for takeoff. You know the drill. Also, Barkhorn how many times have I told you not to refer to Coastal Command and the Coastal Pukes?”

“ _Sorry ma’am!_ ” Barkhorn replied sounding a little ashamed, but not overly so. After the Channel Dash, she had developed the opinion that the RAF and Coastal Command had pilots and witches who fought like lions, but the people in charge of them were at best monkeys, at worst she considered them donkeys. 

The siren was continuing to howl but now a new sound was starting to join it as she ran towards the hanger, the roar of magic engines starting up along with a deeper more intense rumble, Beaufighter engines. Her prep crew met her as she got to the equipment room and with a muted _pop_ she summoned her familiar. Immediately, the world became sharper as her senses were sharpened: smell, eyesight, and hearing all were massively enhanced along with her situational awareness, she could distinctly tell the heading, velocity, and altitude of everything within thirty kilometers. The next part happened on autopilot, she donned her helmet and then she shrugged into the heavy harness that had to be carried by three men working together that contained pouches of ammunition, life jacket, and oxygen rig then slipped on the pack that contained her parachute and rescue gear. **[1]**

“Equipment is ready to go. Happy hunting ma’am.” A member of her prep crew said as he gave her a double pat on the shoulder indicating she was all suited up and ready to go.

“Thanks.” Minna replied before exchanging salutes with her prep team and then proceeding to the hanger, she emerged and headed to her striker, jumping into it and causing a bright blue glow to erupt as the pocket dimension activated just as the striker maintenance techs slammed the service hatches closed. Across the hanger, the other members of Fortis that could were already starting their taxi, weapons in hand as they did abbreviated equipment checklists.

“ _Time plus three minutes._ ” someone announced over the intercom. 

“Your good to go ma’am! We just finished giving the units a tune up, she’s all set and ready to go.” A tech said as he backed away.

Minna nodded in response before shouting “Contact!” and engaging the magic engines, the Daimler Benz DB605-Hexenmaschinen roared into life as tiny magical propellers appeared and spun up, the distinct whine of the supercharger filling her ears; immediately a vaguely translucent tachometer, speedometer, altitude gauge, compass, and magic reserve gauge materialized on her field of vision. The hatch on the stand opened and the Mark V Lewis Gun that she had used since the Battle of Britannia slid out, already loaded. With a single practiced motion, she grabbed it off its rack and chambered the weapon but didn’t flick the safety off. 

“Release!” she shouted over the roar of the magic engines and with a barely audible _clack_ , the clamps released and she leaned forward to start her taxi. “This is Wolf Leader, requesting clearance to taxi to the runway.” she barked into the radio.

“ _This is Home Base, Wolf Leader, you're cleared to taxi to Runway 18; takeoff when ready. All airborne Strike Witches and Coastal Command birds from Rye base to be put under Wolf Leader’s command following take-off. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,_ ” A man in the control tower barked. 

_The enemy must be coming from further south than usual if we are taking off in a southerly direction, either that or Portsmouth is their target this time._ She thought as she taxied out into the Britannian sun, the skies were surprisingly clear with spotty clouds. RPMs seemed good, control surfaces were good, huh, someone had mounted the MG131 gunpods that had come with her Striker Units, the barrels were lined with foci and effectively doubled their power, good. If the Neuroi were going to be hitting Portsmouth there would be a considerable number of targets so she would need all the firepower she could get.

“ _Deja flight airborne, forming up with the rest of Indigo Squadron._ ” Flight Lieutenant Isabella Richards, a witch from the Royal Australis Air Force, said over the radio as herself and her flight leaped into the air.

“ _Oi wanker, get out of the bloody way so we can get going!_ ” A Beaufighter pilot snarled angrily as one of the reconstituted flights within Fortis Squadron in front of her, composed of Shirley, Erica, and Francesca cut the first flight of four Beaufighters off. 

“ _Shut the fuck up, you know full well that the Strike Witches have priority during a fucking scramble._ ” Shirley snarled in response at the pilot. 

“ _Why you-_ ” The pilot hissed, obviously getting pissed.

Shirley cut him off. “ _Braveheart Flight taking off!_ ” she snapped and three witches wearing P-40F, a Bf-109 G-2, and a Macchi 202 strikers respectively began to thunder down the runway.

“Apple flight, hold; this is Wolf Leader, I am going ahead in the cue so I can get everyone in order in the air faster.” Minna growled into the radio, mentally filing the identification number of the Beaufighter that had threatened to delay the scramble of her unit away for later.

A groan answered her. “ _Roger, Fürstin._ ” the pilot replied dourly as Minna checked her left, sure enough, Flying Officer Atike of Ostman was right there, her Spitfires growling constantly.

Just prior to increasing the flow of magic to the DB605-Hexenmaschinen of her striker units, within the pocket dimension she twisted her leg at the ankle, deploying the flaps of her fighter to their takeoff position, then reaching up to her helmet she brought her tinted goggles **[1]** down over her eyes. “Wolf leader, taking off!” She yelled before increasing power.

The engines roared and slowly but quickly gathered pace, she accelerated. The wind began to whip at her face as she gathered speed as the motors roared in takeoff mode. She reached takeoff speed and within the pocket dimension moved her leg ‘back’ like she was goose-stepping in reverse and the elevators pitched upwards and she fairly leaped into the air. With a ‘stepping motion’ within the pocket dimension followed by a whir that she felt through the striker’s frame rather than heard, the landing gear raised. “Wolf leader, airborne!” she barked as she climbed, setting Hexenmaschinen of her strikers to continuous mode, the altitude gauge spinning madly upwards as she climbed upwards at 40-plus meters per second, passing through angels one **[2]** in just under ten seconds and continuing to climb. 

“Chain Home this is Wolf Leader, what’s the situation?” Minna asked as she climbed upwards, flashing hand signals, she could tell through her mind’s eye that the other flights and squadrons were forming up around her. The Beaufighters were beginning to take off as well, the heavily armed twin-engine aircraft were clawing for altitude at a much higher rate than she ever could due to their much more powerful engines and greater wing area.

“ _Wolf Leader this is Chain Home, be advised we got one Large-type Neuroi, classification unknown along with seventy-five Porcupine Bombers being escorted by roughly a hundred fighters heading for Portsmouth, currently they are 230-kilometers out and are moving at 313-kilometers per hour at angels twelve. ETA till they arrive over Portsmouth forty-four minutes, over._ ” Chain Home Command replied, Minna nodded as the information came in. That is what she had been expecting.

“I take it the Isle of Wight detachment is being scrambled as we speak and that patrols are being organized to form a defense?” she asked as she climbed through Angels four and half. 

“ _Affirmative, the Isle of Wight detachment is scrambling as we speak as are additional RAF and Luftwaffe squadrons. The planned intercept point is roughly twenty miles from the coast of Portsmouth, over_ ” Chain Home replied.

Minna bobbed her head in response. “Understood Chain Home, heading towards that RV point now.” she replied as the various squadrons formed up around her.

“ _Affirmative, happy hunting Wolf Lead, out._ ” Chain Home replied before cutting the connection.

For a moment, Minna allowed herself to smile. This was what she lived for, this was her job. Doing nothing more than destroying the enemy with support from fighters, she could feel her fellow witches forming up around her. Like her, they were all eager to get some revenge against the Neuroi for what had happened on Black Monday.

“Wolf Leader to Strike Witches, ascend to angels seventeen and make your course 2-7-0.” Minna said before ‘shifting’ her legs to the right within the pocket dimension while twisting them in that direction. The rudder and ailerons of her strikers reacted as she shifted her body weight in the direction she wanted to go in, causing her to shift into a banking turn. All of these tasks were difficult, but she had heard rumors that the G-6s would have easier controls where she could use her magic to manipulate the control surfaces like in the Americaine TBD-1 Devastator strikers. 

She smiled as she heard the acknowledgements and she ‘saw’ that everyone else was following her lead. The wind was cold and it nipped at her face as she reached the cruising speed of her strikers, she could feel the air getting thinner, she reached down and grabbed the mask that was dangling free off her helmet and secured it firmly to its other anchor point on her helmet and took in a deep breath after fiddling with the valve, that felt better.

“ _What do we got this time, Leader?_ ” She heard Mio asked over the radio.

“Chain Home says we got one large-type classification unknown, seventy-five _Porcupine_ bombers, and roughly a hundred fighters inbound; the Isle of Wight detachment is scrambling and they are bringing up additional RAF and Luftwaffe aircraft as well as witches. They want us to intercept them off the coast so they don’t pound Portsmouth into rubble.” She replied as she focused on her magic, some witches had been left behind due to their strikers being beyond repair. So while only a few witches from the squadron had been able to come up, they all wanted revenge.

“ _Affirmative, sounds easy enough, when are the Neuroi going to send a real challenge across the channel?_ ” Mio asked in response.

Before she could respond a member of Ghostrider replied. “ _Jeez Fortis Leader, I think you love your job way too much. If the Neuroi sent a legitimate challenge for us across the Channel, I’d say that Britannia would be fucked._ ” it sounded like Astri, Minna noted.

“ _Please don’t talk about stuff like that!_ ” a distressed voice barged in over the radio, Minna sighed as she resisted the urge to rub her temples in dismay; sometimes it felt like some members of her Wing could be so insensitive.

“ _Sorry Lynette, my bad._ ” Astri said quickly in response. 

Minna sighed deeply, nearly being killed by the Neuroi hadn’t done wonders for Lynette’s confidence, finding out her strikers had been wrecked due to her crashing on that horrible day along with the fact that her flight leader had been killed in action didn’t help matters. This discussion probably had just added more stuff on top of the pile. “Lock it down, both of you.” she barked at the two witches responsible. 

“ _Thanks Wing Commander._ ” The Britannian replied, sounding somewhat disturbed still.

Minna sighed as she decided that Lynette needed time off the frontline, maybe some training on new strikers would help her steady her nerves along with the thrill of flying through the air once again; it was a thrill that never gets old no matter how long you had been flying strikers.

 _Climbing through Angels seventeen now._ Minna mused as she leveled off and signaled for the rest of the wing to do the same. The rumble of the engines filled her ears as the chilly air nipped at her face, it felt good to fly. 

“ _Ma’am, is it unusual for the Wight detachment to be scrambled to defend the same location as us?_ ” Squadron Leader Heinreich of Indigo Squadron asked.

“It’s a little unusual Indigo Leader, but then again, given what is headed towards Portsmouth and given that Southampton isn’t that far away. They are likely worried that while the Neuroi bombers will leave after dropping their ordnance, that the Large-Type _won’t_ and will lay waste to the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth, and Southampton should it get through. Hence the overkill, Chain Home wants us to stop this thing in its tracks.” Minna replied as the countryside slid past below her.

“ _Oh, I see. Yeah that makes sense, particularly since I think a convoy just pulled in. The Brass wouldn’t want to have that get caught in the harbor and sunk._ ” Heinreich replied with a thoughtful hum, if Minna remembered right she apparently was part of a Germanian Knight Family, the short but heavy two-handed sword strapped to her belt testified to that.

Minna had to admit, Heinreich probably was accurate in her guess. The Neuroi with their damned submarine campaign were causing enough headaches as it was, having the aliens bomb a port that was crowded with ships and supplies from a convoy? That would just add insult to injury, having gotten a convoy safely to Britannia, only to have it wrecked by enemy aircraft.

The countryside beneath them began to transition to the greenish blue of the English Channel. In the distance she could begin to see black dots of varying sizes, indicating both witches and planes as they circled defensively near Portsmouth. As they drew near, she could begin to identify the planes and witches, unsurprisingly their was the six witches of the Isle of Wight detachment of the 501st JFW, but she was also seeing several flights of Royal Air Force Hawker Hurricanes, along with what appeared to be the new Typhoons, and Supermarine Spitfires; along with additional groups of Luftwaffe Bf-109s and Fw-190s as well as several flights of witches from both groups.

Her radio crackled as they entered radio range. “ _Looks like the main interception force is arriving, who are they?_ ” A Germanian pilot asked curiously.

“ _Probably an RAF witch wing from Group 11. Not sure why it's coming from the direction of London though given the various raids that have been hammering the city._ ” Another pilot replied. 

This and other radio chatter told the Wing Commander that apparently they hadn’t been informed that the 501st JFW would be assisting them. Which was believable all things considered because of where the 501st JFW base was located in relation to the Portsmouth which usually meant, it would be rare for the RAF and Luftwaffe to rely on the entirety of the 501st JFW coming out to assist them. Usually they had to rely on the Wight Detachment to augment defense.

Minna cleared her throat and then spoke up. “Wight Actual, this is Wolf Leader, mind if we join the party?” she asked before switching to the frequency for the Wing. “Girls, take spacing.” she ordered.

“ _Roger ma’am_ ” The three squadron leaders replied as one, she would have preferred to have Nightmare squadron here as well but they were a night witch squadron and thus would likely be half asleep or somehow flying asleep, meaning they would likely be just as dangerous to themselves and friendlies as they would be to the neuroi. Thus they hadn’t scrambled, in fact she wouldn’t be surprised if they had outright _slept_ through the scramble siren. 

In her mind’s eye she could see the three squadrons that were up spreading out from a cruising formation to a combat formation. Regardless, the holes in the formation were quite obvious; Fortis Squadron only had six witches up, Ghostrider Squadron only had twelve witches in the air with the others not being airborne due to having wrecked striker units, and Indigo Squadron was at full strength. At least some of the holes in Fortis and all of the holes in Ghostrider Squadron was due to inoperable strikers rather than dead witches. 

Silence reigned over her primary radio communication frequency. Then it seemingly went haywire as first as frantic and excited radio transmissions filled the airwaves, just hearing those jubilant voices at hearing her call sign over the radio brought a smile to the Wing Commander’s face even though it was obscured by her oxygen mask. Even despite the pounding that the 501st JFW had taken at the hands of the Neuroi, they were still regarded as the best.

Finally a new voice cut through the chatter. “ _Alright everyone cut the chatter. Nice to have you with us Wolf Actual, given the number of dots I guess that you're bringing the entire Wing out to play this time around?_ ” Flying Officer Kadomaru Misa, commanding officer of the Isle of Wight detachment greeted her, she sounded a lot better than when Minna had last spoken to her. The so-called “Evacuation War” had left her an emotional wreck due to the 1st IJAAF European Dispatch Air Division having been effectively wiped out, with the remains absorbed into the Royal Air Force in-spite of IJAAF protests. 

The fact that she was improving emotionally gave Minna hope that she might be like her old self someday. “Affirmative, I am also bringing a Coastal Command composite Beaufighter squadron with eight Beaufighters and four witches. Interrogative. How many fighters do you have?” she inquired. 

For almost a minute Misa was quiet, she was probably doing a count of aircraft types that she could see then she responded. “ _I got all the girls in the Detachment up; I see at least one squadron of Hurricanes although they could be Typhoons, two squadrons of Spitfires, as well as several fighter and witch patrols and maybe a squadron of RAF witches, but it looks like the Luftwaffe pulled out all the stops I am seeing three squadrons of Whirlwinds, two squadrons of Fw-190s but I can’t tell the model, along with two full fighter witch squadrons flying either Bf-109s or Fw-190s can’t say for sure from here._ ” she said firmly.

Minna nodded in response. “ _Good lord, with the number of fighters and girls that we got up, this will be a clean sweep._ ” she heard Shirley say over the radio. 

Minna wasn’t entirely sure if it would be a clean sweep, but she did have a plan for killing that large-type that involved the Beaufighters and Beaufighter witches. It was risky but it was a tactic that worked frightfully well against them, often causing Neuroi to literally break up mid flight.

Her radio crackled again and the person who was contacting her caused Minna to gulp nervously. “ _Wolf Lead, this is Chain Home. We just got confirmation from a MTB patrol on what that large-type is, we got a_ Reaper _-class Large Ground Attack Type_ **[3]** _at the front of the procession. Don’t let that thing anywhere_ near _Southampton or Portsmouth for all our sakes, otherwise we can kiss those ports goodbye, over._ ” the radio operator said.

Minna fought the urge to curl up into a ball where she stood as a memory, one from over two years ago welled up inside her.

* * *

_“Neuroi sighted! Oh my God, it’s a_ Reaper _!”_ _someone shouted as a massive insidious form with hundreds of red hexagons and turrets dropped out of the overcast sky, it was easily as long and wide as a cruiser._

_Powerful hands grabbed her. “To that basement, it's our only chance!” the man who had grabbed her, shouted and she was pulled along as infantry ran to the basement as gunfire filled the air, the bellow of machine guns and cannons contrasted sharply with the sustained roar of the few FlaK 88s opening fire._

_The Neuroi unleashed a terrifying sound, like the screech of the damned only that it was coming from inside her own head before beams of death descended upon the land and began scouring humanity from it._

* * *

“ _Steady Wolf Actual."_ Ronga’s voice brought her out of the flashback before it could consume her fully.

She tempered her fraying nerves and steeled herself, she had a plan for killing that thing that she _hoped_ would work. “Affirmative Chain Home, you can count us; we’ll stop it.” she said quickly, hoping she managed to stop her voice from quivering. 

Panic, she was on the verge of it. She had to prevent it from overtaking her, dammit she had over a hundred pilots and witches depending on her to see them through this battle. She couldn’t fail them, that was something she couldn’t bear. _I got to do this, all of these pilots and hundreds of thousands of civilians are depending on me to come up with a plan to effectively lead them._ She thought as she tried to focus. 

Then suddenly, she felt something. If she were to try to describe it: it was like the sensation of a warm tongue licking her cheek without the saliva that would’ve normally accompanied it, followed by the sound of a soft whine in her own head that’d somehow bypassed her ears on the way in. She smiled at her Krawatte’s show of support, and found her balance. 

“ _Good show Wolf Lead, out._ ” Chain Home replied before cutting the connection. 

“All callsigns be advised, we got confirmation on the large-type; it's a _Reaper_ class Large Ground Attack Type. But don’t panic, we can kill this thing, I got a plan.” she said hurriedly as she visualized the battle plan in her head, it was the best she had on such short notice. 

“I want the Coastal Command Beaufighters and witches making a pass on the _Reaper_ , I want you to kill it in one stroke. Fortis Squadron you support them, I want witches in front covering the Beaufighters. I want the majority of the witches against the enemy fighters, keep them off the backs of the steelwings along with the Wight Detachment, RAF No. 610, and Wolf Flight, for we’re on the bombers.” she ordered firmly, while trying to keep the tension and fear out of her tone. 

The rush of affirmatives that she heard from the various pilots was gratifying, they hadn’t noticed her fear. That was good, she closed her eyes briefly, remembered all of the various identification numbers then opened her eyes and cast out her arm. “Commence attack!” she ordered and in the next moment there were dozens of contrails shooting past her as witches and pilots raced to engage.

The Beaufighters and Beaufighter witches formed up with Fortis Squadron and zoomed ahead, climbing higher as they did so, while the fighters and witches swept out to come in from the flanks of the enemy force from above once that _Reaper_ was gone. She maneuvered with the group heading to the left, leading her flight as they formed up.

Minna focused on her ability, allowing her to see the various witches and fighters as they jockeyed to get into position. For several long moments the comms were silent, then came the call that she was waiting for. “ _Enemies sighted, a mess of fighters, seventy-five odd bombers, and one big-one. Tallyho!_ ” one of the Beaufighter pilots shouted.

“ _The primary core is in its usual spot for a_ Reaper _, witches cover the Beaufighters! Tallyho!_ ” Mio called out, the roar of her striker units audible in the background as she turned in to engage, the sound of rushing wind quickly becoming audible as she dove. 

Even from here, the _Reaper_ class was an intimidating beast, the size of most cruisers, bristling with enough plasma lances, heat rays, and heavy rocket-bomb cannons to lay waste to an entire fleet within seconds while having thick enough ventral armor to shrug off even the heaviest of AA fire, as Ostmark’s 1st Fleet had found out the hard way.

The Beaufighters with the witches in front dove out of a break in the clouds just above the Neuroi force that was at Angels 12. Immediately the _Reaper_ began spitting red fire from its _countless_ blood red weapon ports along its dorsal surfaces and some of its ventral surfaces. Just barely from here she could some of the beams split as they made contact with witch shields. 

What _wasn’t_ visible Minna knew as she saw the attacking craft get within firing range and open fire, would be the literal flood of blackish-white material being kicked up from all of the weapons being fired as they marched their streams of fire across the alien machine probing for its core, which had already been located. With all of the steel being thrown downrange by the attack group, the law of averages dictated that it would be hit eventually. 

That law was proven when with a bright flash of orange, blue, and white; the _Reaper_ disintegrated. “ _Target destroyed!_ ” Mio whooped gleefully as black dots swept through the expanding cloud of glowing blackish-white material as they continued their dive. About twenty of the small black dots escorting the Neuroi bombers broke off and went after them. 

But each Beaufighter had a turret gunner, which meant that the maneuver done by the enemy fighters didn’t have a prayer of catching the victorious force that had just killed the _Reaper_ off guard. " _Alright, looks like we’re dragging some of the enemy escort with us. Wolf Actual we’re going to be a little late in arriving to help deal with the bombers while we deal with these clowns._ ” Mio added, sounding a little bloodthirsty. 

Minna bobbed her head in understanding as herself and the others climbed as they maneuvered to make slashing attacks from the flanks of the enemy formation. It was beginning to get chilly, she noted as the distance continued to close. She knew from experience that would change very shortly, the numerous black dots were beginning to develop into more than just dots.

The escorting fighters resolved themselves into the lethal forms of Larosis, the Neuroi’s mainstream fighter. Specifically: the third incarnation of the Laros. Their distinctive dagger like fuselages were nightmare black, with a low drag canopy, a bizarre engine of a type that hadn’t been seen before that spun an eight-bladed contra-rotating propeller which gave the thing a demonic sounding screech as well as impressive speed and agility, their were two small wings forward close towards the nose, with their main wings being weird trapidozal affairs, and a bizarre inverted Y-Tail if there ever was a sort of thing. Minna also knew that with their two belly mounted plasma cannons along with six 13mm rocket gun in the wings. 

Behind them came the _Porcupines_ in wings of five, the craft were utterly alien in shape, their fuselage and wings blended together flawlessly with a distinctive tail section that contained four fins. Not helping matters was the fact that it was bristling with weaponry, when they first appeared the fucking things used relatively slow firing dual plasma lances for defensive weaponry, now they mostly used rapid firing pulse plasma as well as rocket cannons. The fact they carried nearly twenty-five thousand pounds of ordnance and were tough as all hell didn’t help matters. Additionally, they were the largest Neuroi craft that didn’t have cores which meant you had to hit pretty hard in order to kill it.

The intercept force now had several thousand feet of altitude on the enemy. “Tallyho!” Minna called out and for two seconds she stood her strikers on its wingtip and picked out her target and then continued her roll, adding some rudder to it in order to bring her perpendicular to her prey and then she pitched herself forward, adding in motion from her elevators. Resulting in her pushing over into a dive at the same time she changes the mode of her engines from continuous mode (otherwise known as cruising mode) and into combat mode.

The Daimler Benz DB-605 Hexenmaschinen roars like a dinosaur as they are unchained, she could feel the speed building as she dove. Her gloved finger moved forward and flicked the safety of her weapon off, while with the slightest wiggle of her toes, she chambered the MG131s and armed them. The altimeter is spinning wildly as she descends, the air is warming up from the friction. Her fingers tightened around the foregrip of her weapon as she shouldered the weapon in anticipation. 

_You’ve done this numerous times Minna, just another day in the office for you._ She thought as she gently pushed down with her foot, two pounds of pressure for the first trigger. A semi-translucent gunsight appeared in her vision, she adjusted her aim somewhat, waited several more seconds. Then applied another half pound of pressure and the roar of the dual MG131s filled her ears, sending a blizzard of glowing white and red tracers towards the Neuroi bomber.

The rounds impacted and immediately the Neuroi bomber's frame started to deform as the magic augmented rounds stitched across the bomber’s fuselage. A long chain of small debris fell away from the aircraft and then something particularly large was ripped away, a moment later an engine coughed thick black smoke as flames burst out of the fuselage. Crippled, the bomber veers out of the formation, rapidly descending as it does so, more fire belching out of the stricken craft as it falls from the sky in an uncontrolled plunge. 

“ _Score one for Fürstin!_ ” Someone called, as the interception force fell upon the Neuroi. 

Adjusting aim and lining up another Neuroi bomber was child’s play, a sustained burst from her machine gun tore most of the tail and a good-sized section of the fuselage away from the aircraft and pitched the bomber into a surprisingly violent death spiral. 

Now the Neuroi were starting to react, flickers of plasma and sinister black contrails began to lance upwards from their defensive emplacements at the diving interception force. Behind her oxygen mask, Minna allowed herself a grim smile, at the rate she was diving the enemy wouldn’t begin to really return fire until she got back on her perch for another run as Atike began adding her own fire, having selected a target.

The next Neuroi bomber simply shattered as the gunpods roared, the tracers stitched across the airframe and hit something critical causing the bomber to simply explode violently in the middle of the fuselage snapping the craft like a twig and sending it down towards the Channel in several large fragments. 

_That_ made the Neuroi get their act together much faster, their defensive fire was increasing but wasn’t enough at the- 

**_Danger._ **

_Shit!_ She thought as that warning sensation flashed through her mind, without even thinking about it she summoned her shield, then an instant later a pulse of energy splattered upon it. Cursing, she adjusted aim again and the Lewis Gun coughed at the bomber responsible sending at least a dozen rounds down range at it, which due to her magic hit with the force of a cannon round. Their impact caused the Neuroi bomber to shudder and something belched fire along sickly black smoke from within the alien craft but it stubbornly kept flying.

Then she flashed past the formation and she counted to five before pitching herself up and manipulating the elevators and she rockets upwards, converting her energy back into altitude. That was one thing that had been hammered into her during training, speed is life and altitude is life insurance.

She rolled onto her back and lined up the stricken bomber, despite being on fire and likely having an engine out. The thing was stubbornly still making its way towards Portsmouth. But before she could pull the trigger, something caused the bomber to literally fold in half as fire and smoke spewed from the craft as it crumpled under an absolutely _tremendous_ impact and simply plummeted from the sky with all the grace of a brick dropped from a great height.

“ _That’s my first kill of the day, what the hell was I thinking bringing out my ATR for this?_ ” Wilma Bishop says over the comms with a sigh. 

Minna couldn’t help it, she giggled at the sight. “So you could one-hit kill Neuroi bombers maybe? I haven’t seen a Neuroi bomber come apart like that unless Barkhorn with her MG120 is firing on it.” she says as she admires the satisfying sight.

Wilma laughs over the comms. “ _Possibly, I may just need to relieve some stress and making Neuroi bombers go poof in spectacular fashion is probably why I decided to bring this thing._ ” the Britannian witch replies. 

Minna just shakes her head as she grins, she could get behind Wilma’s thinking quite easily. She then took a moment to listen to the radio.

" _Indigo Leader, break right!_ ” A pilot shouts over the radio. 

“ _Breaking! Thanks Blackhawk Leader!_ ” Heinrich says gladly as a machine gun rattles in the background.

“ _Pip pip cheerio to you too._ ” The pilot replies, the thunder of a mighty Merlin engine faintly audible in the background.

“ _I just got one._ ” She heard a member of the Wight detachment whoop gleefully. 

“ _My God, what the hell is the enemy escort doing? Gentlemen we might as well help ourselves given how useless the blighters escort is being._ ” Another pilot added as Minna looked around as she got back on her perch. From this position it was easy enough to nose over into another dive on her target.

More radio chatter was filling her ears, whoops of joy as witches and pilots gleefully called out successful kills as well alerting them to the presence of enemy fighters, along with the occasional scream of a defeated pilot and rarely the scream of a defeated witch. This was chaos, but a good chaos, she could tell with her magic ability that the various groups of fighters and witches were sweeping through the Neuroi with shocking ease.

She came in on her next dive and swore, this formation was much more prepared. The bombers were spitting plasma and smokey black contrails at the marauding witches and fighters that were making high speed passes at them. One of the new Typhoons suddenly without warning appears to jerk in midair as several black contrails connect with it and then it begins to tumble down towards the English Channel trailing fire from the engine with dark red splattered against the canopy. 

_Godamnit_ _, seriously?!_ Minna thinks sourly before swearing again as one of the Neuroi bombers notice her and the defensive emplacements swung towards her. 

**_Danger._ **

That sensation rolled through her again and the simple blue runic circle pulsed into existence just as the emplacements fired. Plasma lashed at her shield, shoving it back slightly as the dark trails from the rockets streaked up and impacted with some detonating and others crumpling as they rebounded. Then they were gone.

The bastards wouldn’t be able to penetrate her shield that easily. Once again the MG131s roared and tracers carved illuminating trails through the azure sky. The rounds tore into the bomber near the cockpit and then marched across the frame and hit something vital for a great plume of fire belches from the bomber and to her amazement the airframe seemingly sags in the area where the fire and thick black smoke is coming from as it falls out of formation. It fell maybe five hundred feet before suffering catastrophic breakup in-flight, coming apart like wet paper.

The other bombers began pumping out more defensive fire in her direction. In response she rolled left then right twice before going back to the left to evade the rockets and plasma. They were attempting to bracket her with fire so she couldn’t bring her own to bear. Well, too bad she had a shield and they didn’t.

**_Danger._ **

She smirked behind her oxygen mask as she stopped evading and raised her shield when that sensation shot through her again, but she kept it raised after the sensation passed and sure enough more pulses and rockets lanced into it. Then the Germanian sighted up her target and, uncaring of the fire crashing into her shield, pulled the trigger. Tracers streaked away from the gun, through her shield but she didn’t need to lower a small section of her shield for an instant to do so, a difficult trick to master but _damn_ useful. The Porcupine coughed smoke from at least one of its engines as the sustained burst ripped into it.

A second burst resulted in something, maybe several somethings falling off the craft and the third burst she put into the bomber resulted in a plume of flame belching from the Neuroi bomber and then her gun clicked empty. _Dammit._ She thought bitterly as the enemy bomber despite being badly shot up and on fire in multiple places, stubbornly flew onwards. 

Well that was a _Porcupine_ bomber for you, unless you aimed well, the bastards were exceptionally tough. But before she could fire at it with the gunpods, Atike sent a sustained burst into the bomber. That was the breaking point for the alien craft and it began its final descent, rapidly becoming a flying inferno as it fell leaving a thick trail of dark smoke in its wake.

She broke off after confirming the kill, pitching herself upwards again and zoom climbing. As she did so she checked and confirmed that her wingwitch was still with her, then she thumbed the magazine release. The pan seemed to pop upwards, she grabbed the magazine off the top of the receiver and dropped it, then reached into her webbing and withdrew a fresh one and guided it into the gun. She twisted the handle on top of the magazine and worked the bolt, chambering a new round. 

She paused to look into her surroundings and nodded, everything seemed to be going well with most of the fighters bugging out but the bombers seemed determined on their mission to bo- oh shit.

“Stay on my wing Atike!” Minna shouted as several people yelled warnings as she applied hard left rudder and ailerons as well as shifting her weight in that direction, the result was that she pulled a harsh snap turn. A glance confirmed that her wingwitch was following her dutifully. Somewhere behind her she vaguely heard the distinct _whoosh whoosh whoosh_ of enemy rockets along with the harsh _snap-hiss snap-hiss snap-hiss_ of plasma shrieking through the airspace she would have occupied had she not turned. 

_Right, how the fuck did I let that Larosi sneak up on me like that? I got Space Understanding for Christ Sakes!_ Minna thought sourly as she looked to the right and saw a Larosi climbing aggressively. Its propeller screeched like a banshee as it stood on its wingtip and began to turn towards her. 

“Atike, hard right rudder, now!” Minna barked and a scant instant later she heard the Ostmanian reply through her radio. “ _Yes, ma'am._ ” 

A moment after that she applied hard right rudder and the proper inputs for her ailerons, elevators, as well as shifting her body weight. She came about with shocking speed, not even needing to glance to know that Atike was following her faithfully. Then she nosed over and dove. 

The Larosi didn’t have a chance, already she was inside the turn that the alien was cutting and diving on it. The alien never realized its mistake until it was far too late for it to do anything about it, from a range of 1,000-meters she opened fire. The line of tracers cut through the azure skies and instantly turned the craft into a fiery comet plunging towards the frigid English Channel below.

“Atike two coming down on us from eight o’clock high!” Minna barked as she focused briefly on her ability.

“ _Roger!_ ” Atike replied and a moment later gunfire rattled behind her, she didn’t need to look over her shoulder in order to know that the Ostmanian witch was firing at the two Neuroi fliers. Several moments later she heard a derisive snort. “ _One splashed ma’am and I forced the other one away trailing smoke._ ”

“Good enough Atike, follow my lead.” Minna said as she pivoted herself around and climbed upwards some two thousand feet, then selecting a new formation they both dove. 

This time the neuroi were waiting for them, their weapons glowed for an instant before-

**_Danger._ **

Without thinking she summoned her shield, Atike’s blazed into existence next to her at the same moment.

Two seconds later, several bursts of plasma splashed upon it, dissipating harmlessly while rockets streamed past and several either shattered or detonated upon their defenses. “Fire!” she barked. 

The MG131s along with her Lewis Gun roared their fury, she couldn’t even hear Atike’s weapon discharge over the rushing wind but she saw her tracers arch out. But the Germanian focused on her own tracers and smiled darkly behind her oxygen mask as several engines on the _Porcupine_ spewed fire and the bomber began a slow descending roll, leaving a sickly trail of flame and smoke in its wake as it began to breakup near where the wing met the main fuselage. 

“ _Just got another one, that’s twelve fighters for me._ ” An RAF witch said gleefully over the radio.

“ _I think the Neuroi are packing it in for the day._ ” A pilot said as the bombers suddenly dumped their payload and began to turn away from Britannia, diving as they did so in order to pick up speed and separate from the marauding allied aircraft and witches.

“ _I think you're right, chew on that, assholes._ ” A Luftwaffe witch said gleefully as the bombers, missing nearly half their number, retreated with several trailing smoke as they did so.

Minna couldn’t help but smile as she watched the enemy bombers flee, a few shot up fighters following the bombers as a few enthusiastic Whirlwinds and Spitfires gave chase with witches in tow.

“Alright, Strike Witches, reform on me and standby to return to base.” Minna ordered, she knew that after a furball like that it would take a couple of minutes for everyone to form back up into their respective flights and squadrons. To her relief, none of the six witches shotdown during the battle had been from the 501st, even better she could see five bright yellow life rafts bobbing below on the surface of the Channel; but that still meant one hadn’t survived. She whispered a prayer for the deceased witch’s soul. Afterwards though, the Germanian witch scowled as she realized that ten planes had been shot down and she only counted a total of two rafts. Eight pilots and one witch KIA in one intercept.

Her radio crackled. “ _Wing Commander Wilcke?_ ” a concerned sounding Wilma Bishop asked. 

_Uh-oh._ Minna thought quickly. “Yes, Flight Sergeant Bishop? What’s up?” she replied, the Wing Commander had a feeling that she knew what or rather who the older Britannian witch was going to ask her about. 

She heard a sigh over the radio from the Britannian. “ _I have to ask, how is Lynne doing? I haven’t received any letters from her recently and I am getting worried about her._ ” she asked, using Lynette’s nickname.

Well, crap; that is what she expected but answering it would require finesse. She sighed. “Honestly Wilma, I think she’s still getting over the shock of what happened to Fortis Squadron recently. Lord knows I still am, that said her Whirlwinds got wrecked during the action; I am going to be filling out paperwork to send her to Silverstone along with Perrine for training on new strikers; I had to call in a few favors to make it happen, but they are both getting top of the line Supermarine Spitfire Mark IX striker units.” Minna said, trying to say those words with a straight face.

She wasn’t surprised in the slightest when she heard Wilma’s reply. “ _Wait, Lynne’s strikers were wrecked?! Wing Commander, was she hurt?!_ ” she asked fearfully, Minna resisted the urge to shake her head, Wilma Bishop was a good girl and an excellent fighter witch; but she was somewhat overprotective of her younger sister. Though not as much as Lynette’s older brother Arthur, who was also RAF, then again that man was protective of all _seven_ of his siblings. 

Minna sighed and decided to not sugarcoat the matter even though she wanted too. “She had a close call and had it not been for Perrine we probably would’ve lost her over the Channel. When she got back to base she was barely conscious, thank the Lord that our medical staff has a damn good mediwitch or we probably would’ve lost her due to her wounds. She’s recovered from her injuries but her confidence took one hell of a hit, most witches actually take a hit to their confidence after a near death experience. I know mine did; but that’s part of the reason why I am sending her to Silverstone so that she can train on new strikers and get some of that confidence back.” she said simply. 

There was silence on the radio for several torturous seconds and then finally Wilma asked in a small voice. “ _How badly did Lynne get hurt Wing Commander? I want to know._ ” 

Crap, this complicated things. “Pretty bad, she had eighty odd shrapnel injuries and some required stitches in addition to healing magic. She made it though and if anything is still going strong.” she replied to the Britannian witch.

“ _That many? My god, what happened?_ ” Wilma asked, worry clear in her voice.

Minna knew the answer and hated to give it. “HE rocket launched by a Brute heavy fighter, thing had a time-fuse and the alien bastard flying the thing perfectly timed it. Given the caliber of rocket thrown around by the Brute’s rocket cannons, Lynette got exceptionally lucky.” she replied. 

Wilma let out an audible breath of relief. “ _Thank Christ, still it's good to know that she’s alright. Thanks Wing Commander, over_ ” she replied. 

Minna couldn’t help but smile. “No problem Wilma, my pleasure to help, out.” she said and then cut the connection.

She could _feel_ the various members of the wing forming up around her, the radio chatter in her ears was jubilant and joyful. Already she could hear members of the JFW comparing both the number of kills they had made and how _easy_ this mission had been compared to the hell hole that had been their last mission. You didn’t need to be practically lifetime military like she was to know that the morale was climbing throughout the unit because of how well this mission had gone.

The flight back to Rye however was just routine after changing modes back to cruising mode. She spent most of the time just admiring the beauty of Britannia, it wasn’t quite like her native Germania but there was beauty to it all the same. The white cliffs and the rolling hills stretching out as far as the eye could see, if she squinted then she could just barely from here see the outline of Hastings. She found herself landing with a jarring thud after a scramble and intercept that had proven to be rather routine, bringing her engines to idle and slowly taxiing off the runway towards the hangars. 

If anything, she was eager for the debriefing and going over kills made by her girls. She knew today had been quite the good day for the unit as a whole in more ways than one.

* * *

**Later that day**

**Base of the 501st JFW - Wing Commander’s Office**

Lynette gave her element leader a nervous look, which Perrine returned. She was nervous and wondering what would happen in the meeting that she was going to be having with the Wing Commander. She had heard rumors that due to losses that Fortis Squadron sustained that her commanding officer was being sent back to Jipang to look into prospects for a new Jipangese witch or two and that Barkhorn along with Erica were going to be training replacement witches for the RAF. With the other witches in the squadron being put on Alert Five for patrol reinforcements until they could replacements.

The thought of working with replacements that hadn’t likely seen combat before was a prospect that she didn’t like facing. It was no secret that when replacements got involved, the number of casualties for a unit would increase drastically. For the JFWs, replacements were always the cream of the crop from the various flight academies but even then, she would have preferred veterans who were transfers. 

But why did the Wing Commander want to see them? She glanced at her flight chronometer **[1]** and sighed, it was just about time and Perrine knew it. The Gallian approached the well polished mahogany door and knocked twice. 

There was a muffled “Come in” in response to the knock. Perrine pushed the door open and walked inside, despite her worry she followed after her element leader. The office looked exactly like it did the last time she’d been in here. Sitting behind her desk with her fingers steepled was Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke; she had always felt awed to be serving under the command of one of humanity’s greatest aces, but at the same time found her to be a little intimidating. Something that wasn’t helped by the fairly visible and dramatic scar across her left cheek, which according to Minna she had gotten during Dynamo but hadn’t told them how she had gotten it. 

The two of them came to attention, not saluting since they were indoors. “Flying Officer Perrine Clostermann reporting as ordered, ma’am.” Perrine said pleasantly.

“Pilot Officer Lynette Bishop reporting, ma’am.” she said, hoping that her worry and nervousness didn’t cause her to stutter.

“As you were you two, you know I don’t like to stand on ceremony.” Minna replied and waited for herself and Perrine to relax. Then she continued. “As you know, we lost a lot of good girls out there on the 15th and that we had several striker units totaled. We are getting replacement strikers trucked in but in the meantime I’ve managed to secure Supermarine Mark IX Striker Units for the two of you; they are just about the most advanced striker units in the world at the moment, as such your going to be heading out to RAF Silverstone for a two-week training course.” 

Lynette was fairly sure that her mouth was doing the best impression of a fish as she processed the news. Mark IX Spitfires strikers, the prospect of _those_ being her new mounts. It was something that seemed almost too good to be true. She glanced at Perrine who was usually unflappable and to her surprise looked stunned. 

“Ma’am, why we’re we selected for the Mark IXs? Why not just have the entirety of Fortis Squadron outfitted with them, similar to the 503rd JFW in the Americaine theater.” the Gallian asks.

Minna sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I was hoping for that, except apparently one of the first USAAF units to arrive, the 332nd Composite Fighter Group, came over with hopelessly underpowered P-39s. Thus most of the available Mark IX striker units got sent to them by Fighter Command, so I just consider myself lucky to have the units I did manage to requisition for you two.” she says in a tone that indicates that she’s clearly not happy with the turn of events.

Lynette chewed her lip in response as she tried to think of a response to that. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what the hell the USAAF was thinking, giving a unit some P-39s then sending them here. The things were excellent at low and medium altitudes but according to her sister, the things had their performance drop off massively at high altitude. Still, if she recalled apart from a few Bombardment Groups, there weren't any Fighter Groups in the USAAF that were here. So the mention of the 332nd Composite Fighter Group made her wonder who were they? “Ma’am, I’ve never heard of the 332nd Composite Fighter Group, but why would the USAAF give them P-39s even though they _know_ that the blasted things are useless at high altitude?” she asked.

Minna snorted derisively. “Racism most likely, the USAAF is segregated, to the point that negros could only get ground postings. But the 332nd also known as the Tuskegee Experiment is something of an oddity within the USAAF as it's the only African Americaine fighter group that they got. From what I understand a lot of the higher ups within the USAAF were against the project from its inception and given how much of a meat-grinder the American Theater is for their men, witches, and equipment they likely consider the Western Europe Theater which as far as they know is much quieter and probably less strategically important so they got less of a chance to fuck things up. Hell, they likely consider any assignment here to be an all expenses paid vacation to Britannia.” 

Huh, that was interesting; it _did_ explain why the entirety of Fortis Squadron hadn’t received the new units. Though why wasn’t she giving everyone who had totaled their Strikers, four girls from Fortis and four from Ghostrider. “Still ma’am, wouldn’t there have been a few more Mark IXs available instead of just two?” Perrine asked curiously. 

The Britannian hummed as she heard the Gallian’s words. “Perrine, I think that part of the reason is that they need some strikers for training purposes and another is that a lot of units are currently shifting over to the Mark IX and thus production is struggling to keep up with demand.” she said in response.

Minna nodded. “Got it in one Lynette, the RAF wants to keep some units available for training purposes hence why we’re not getting eight units but only two. Regardless, you are hereby ordered to report to RAF Silverstone to undergo training for the new Mark IX strikers. Learn those strikers well.” 

“Yes ma’am.” She and Perrine saluted.

“Good, dismissed!” Minna dismissed the two, “You both will be leaving at 1200 hrs tomorrow, your transport will be here at 1130 hrs tomorrow however to drop off supplies for the base in addition to picking you up to transport you to Silverstone.”

Herself and her Gallian element leader nodded and then walked out. She and Perrine went to their quarters to start packing their personal items. 

Thirty minutes later she walked out of her room, her bag was packed and she honestly couldn’t wait to get away from the 501st JFW base for a few days, even if it was just training. It didn’t take long for Perrine to emerge from her own quarters, which came as a mild surprise to Lynette, since she’d honestly expected the Gallian noble to have a mountain of luggage with her. She supposed the lack of servants had something to do with the single bag Perrine carried out with her.

“Ready for this?” The Gallian asked.

She nodded in response, she was ready. By this time tomorrow she would be heading out towards Silverstone, where her new strikers awaited her.

* * *

**That Night**

**In a nondescript house outside Caen**

_Maréchal des logis_ ** _-_** _chef_ **[4]** Julie Hauet, of the _15e Régiment de Cuirassier_ , a _Sorcière de char d'infanterie_ **[5]** of the Gallian Army was laid back seemingly at ease in a sectional sofa as she faced the empty fireplace. While seemingly sprawled out around her were Guardsmen **[4]** Aston Burton and Theodore Wallace and Lance Sergeant **[4]** Samuel Knight along with a Combat Medical Witch Technician **[4]** , Lance Corporal Blossom Chambers; all of whom were from the 2nd Battalion of the Grenadier Guards. Blossom was actually curled up on Julie’s lap like an oversized kitten, apparently quite content just to snooze there basking in the warmth of her surrogate big sister. On the few cushions in the sectional that weren’t occupied by Gallians or Britannians were _Panzerschütze_ **[4]** Ulrich Fink and Luis Weinberger of the 12th Panzerschütze Division, _Unteroffizier_ **[4]** Antonin Hochberg and _Motorschütze_ **[4]** Gerd Wassermann of the 35th Moto-Schützen Division, and a grizzled looking _Sturmhauptmann_ **[4]** of the _Kaiserliche Germanische Sturmgarde_ **[6]**. Finally sitting in their own loveseat and playing on the floor opposite the L-Shaped sectional was the Gallian family who had gladly taken them in after they had escaped from Dunkirk.

Most of them were sleeping but the _Sturmhauptmann_ along with Julie, Mr. Knight, and Mr. Wassermann were awake. No surprise honestly, they were helping the Gallian family run their substantial farm after all, which meant that they had long days working the fields. That said the _Sturmhauptmann_ mused, they were running complex lives; by day they were simple farmers but by night, they broke out equipment and went out on raids. If it was their night that is.

Honestly, he was amazed that they hadn’t been caught yet; but the fact that they hadn’t was something that really surprised him. Here he was though, hard to believe that it has now been just over two years since Operation Dynamo had ended. They’d been doing raids for roughly eighteen months since then and hearing about retaliation whenever they killed actual Neuroi soldiers and not their damned bots. He suppressed the urge to sigh, it was funny he mused since they were no longer really fighting as a large cohesive group but going out in small groups. 

Still he had to admit, the group he found himself basically in charge of was a unique bunch. Two Gallian infantry tank witches (one a battle-hardened noncom, the other little more than a recruit barely out of the Paris military witch academy before it fell to the Neuroi), three Britannian Foot Guards, one Britannian healwitch that came from the same unit as the Foot Guardsmen, and not counting himself four Germanian soldiers. They were a lost bunch of soldiers, undeniably cut-off from their units and probably wouldn’t get to fight alongside the comrades in their own units for a very long time. 

Regardless, that didn’t matter despite everything that had occurred since then. As a member of the _Kaiserliche Germanische Sturmgarde_ , he was a member of the Germanian Army’s elite. Yet at the same time he also felt damn tired of this war already, he should know because he had fought in it since the damned thing had begun. More so to the point because this war had been completely and utterly _different_ from the last one he had fought in, trench warfare after all wasn’t a pleasant affair.

Blossom groggily began to wake up, taking one of Julie’s hands and moving part of her mop of chestnut hair out of her surprisingly sharp blue eyes, much to Julie’s amusement. He checked his watch, it was almost time for Free Gallian Radio to begin their broadcast. He stood up and stretched, his knees popping as he did so then moved over to the radio and flicking it on. “Alright everyone, rise and shine. Our phrase is ‘Simon est réveillé’, if we hear that then we grab our equipment and Comp C, then we are going to knock down an enemy radar tower.” he said, though given the raised eyebrow Julie gave him, he was certain he screwed that up..

Everyone was stirring from their rest and the Gallians set about their own tasks, because while they weren’t part of the resistance as far as he knew, they had helped Blossom patch everyone up after a few raids had gone FUBAR. Which thankfully didn’t happen much anymore since they had gotten rather good at this raiding business, but they had all seen the disaster involving some sort of international witch fighter unit occur in the skies almost two weeks ago. Whatever the intentions of the mission had been, they hadn’t succeeded and had taken losses doing it. 

He sighed. Never did get any damn easier now did it? It was one thing to have seen humanity being driven off of Europe. It was another to see what was probably a recon mission go sideways badly. Probably why they had been told by that damnable agent to destroy the enemy radar towers. 

“Hey, Sturm-howp-man?” Blossom asked nervously as he looked at her. Aw crud, she had that look of existential worry that she always got when they prepared themselves to go out, actually it somehow seemed worse than usual for some reason.

“Yes Blossom, what’s the matter?” he asked as he stooped down to one knee, his eyes peering into hers. 

“Do you think we can honestly win? The radar station is easily the most difficult target we’ve ever been given. Do you think that we can honestly destroy it without all of us dying?” she asked as she fidgeted with her fingers.

To an extent he could understand Blossom being nervous, the kid wasn’t even fourteen years old yet. He could understand how she felt, the poor girl had become rather skittish after their hair-raising escape from Dunkirk. To an extent he understood why she had become skittish too, she had shipped out to Gallia in 1939, eager to help the BEF fight the good fight, only for them to be constantly pushed back by an implacable enemy; then when Dynamo had occurred she hadn’t even gotten out of country. 

He smiled reassuringly at her. “Blossom, there are times when I think that you seriously underestimate what we’re capable of. We did manage to get out of Dunkirk more or less in one piece after all and there was literally an army of clankers between us and freedom. Yet our little ad-hoc bunch managed to slip away to safety despite that. Sure we’re an interesting bunch and we have our disagreements at times. But we look out for each other and I know for a fact that I’ve come to regard you as something like the little sister I never had.” he said. 

“I know that, it's just that; every time we go out. There’s a chance we might die and I am not even fourteen yet, its” she sobbed, tears welling up in her blue eyes before she buried her face in Julie’s coat. Well great, he hated it when he saw witches cry, it made him think _far_ too much of the trenches of the Great War. More than a few witches had either a nervous breakdown, attempted suicide, or committed suicide because of how grueling the trenches had been on them emotionally and mentally. All of the witches had shed tears whenever they lost a buddy, even those who had been on front for a few months or more. 

“Terrifying,” he said simply. “I know that, to tell you the truth, even though I served in the Great War and easily have the most combat experience of anyone here. Yet even I find the prospect of combat to be scary, even terrifying on occasion in-spite of combat experience. My Sergeant said right before our first battle that ‘Anyone who isn’t currently scared out of their wits is either lying to themselves, is nice and safe in the rear, or is dead. But you shall control your fear and turn it into a weapon to use against the enemy.’. I get that the situation we are in currently is frightening and that if we die, we won’t receive a proper burial which seems terrifying, but it was something that happened to more friends and comrades then I like to think about back in the Great War. However, whenever we go out, we are dependent on each other for us to make it through to the end.” he finished in a soft voice as he remembered his friends that hadn’t made it to the end of the Great War.

“I _know_ , it's just becoming too much. I used to write the nuns back at the orphanage once a week, before we had to escape from Dunkirk; that is; now I haven’t been able to write them once in nearly two years. By now, they probably think that I am dead or worse. I, I, I wanna go home.” she sobbed, finishing with a stuttering cry. 

Julie sighed as Blossom began crying in earnest.. She stroked her head while muttering in a soothing tone: “There, there, let it all out, okay?”

The _Chef_ was a grizzled veteran, covered in scars all over her body from fragments that’d missed anything vital, some by very little. The other two witches in their little group looked up to her as an ersatz big sister. She certainly had the big sister attitude down, even if she looked more like she should be a stone-cold killer with a chunk of ice for a heart.

She showed that now by wrapping her arms around Blossom, gently rocking her, and saying comforting words, As she did so, she shifted her around, and almost immediately the younger witch threw her arms around the older one and began sobbing into her chest. Over a minute later, Blossom’s sobs had morphed into hiccups, and the Gallian _chef_ looked at the _Sturmhauptmann._ “Sir, it might be best if we don’t take Blossom on missions anymore. She’s pretty much had it.” Julie said simply. 

For his part, the _Sturmhauptmann_ nodded. “I understand, hell it reminds me way too much of incidents like this that occurred during The Great War. In many ways that war was way worse than the current one, this one has been to my knowledge extremely mobile. The Great War was almost exclusively trench warfare, at least in Europa, even with witches given the tactics used. If you were lucky, you would gain maybe two miles, then when the enemy counter-attacked you would lose easily a mile and a half of it. For a gain of only a half-mile and easily a division’s worth of casualties.” he shook his head as he remembered the battles of the Great War. 

Julie nodded. “ _Oui_ , those were terrible times. I’ve heard of entire covens that were wiped out in only a day thanks to that.”

He nodded. “I remember during the First Day on the Somme; the primarily Britannian offensive advanced about a mile and suffered over 54,000 casualties in the process and it says a hell of a lot when that lone mile was the farthest that the Britannians had advanced since trench warfare began. I knew no less than five separate witches who put their Luger under their chin or to their temple and pulled the trigger because it simply became too much for them to handle and they wanted to get away from all the stress and loss. Everyone knows that men would occasionally commit suicide, but barely anyone knows that witches would do the same, I think that it was actually more common among them for some reason. I could never figure out why..” he said shaking his head.

“From what I heard from the older witches, many of those in the covens were very close to one another. When the casualties got bad enough that you had 1 or 2 survivors from individual covens, those survivors just...wanted to join the rest of their sisters,” Julie breathed.

There was a depressed silence for several moments, and then the _Sturmhauptmann_ smiled, rather broadly as he replied. “Though, the antics of the various Christmas Truces that the witches got up to were rather amusing.” he chuckled. “I remember during the Christmas Truce of 1916 that my battalion got into a rather large snowball fight with a Britannian infantry battalion. To this day, I still don’t know who started it, but it's not as well known as the big one that happened in 1914. It's believed that at least a regiment from both sides were involved in it.”

Julie chuckled at the image. By this point, Blossom had stopped crying and was now sniffling. She looked up at Julie, her eyes watering and her face red. “I miss London.” she said miserably.

“We all do, don’t worry Blossom you’ll see it again. I promise.” Julie said, then she smiled. “If we all get back home alive, would you mind living with a Gallian family?.” she asked as Blossom’s eyes widened. “I promise that all of...most of them speak English reasonably well, and we wouldn’t mind having a new little sister around the house.”

Something dawned in Blossom’s eyes. 

The _Sturmhauptmann_ smiled because he knew what was coming next, he started counting to ten while placing himself as far away as he could feasibly manage while still being in the common room, when he got to nine he put his fingers in his ears. Gerd gave him a funny look then he reached ten and Blossom promptly yelled loudly with joy and Gerd along with everyone else in the common room clutched their ears in pain. Then he took his fingers out of his ears and smirked as Julie ruefully rubbed her own ears, along with nearly everyone else. 

Julie looked at the _Sturmhauptmann_ , and merely shrugged in reply, as if to say “ _C’est la vie”_.

The _Sturmhauptmann_ merely smiled in response.

The radio which was on buzzed and the distinctive voice of the Free Gallian radio broadcaster came to life. “ _Londres appelle avec des messages pour nos amis._ ” spoke and everyone froze and gathered around the small radio. 

Then the first message played “ _La mère écoute_ ” and Julie gave the radio an arch look and she mouthed in amusement “Mother is listening”. Then the broadcaster repeated the message after a moment. 

More messages play and all of them are almost completely nonsensical; but they all knew that these seemingly nonsensical things were bringing the Gallian Resistance to life and likewise to make life for the Neuroi occupiers unpleasant. They wouldn’t quail under occupation and the people of Gallia would be proud to remind them of that. Then they heard it. 

“ _Simon est réveillé_ ” The announcer said.

Everyone froze then looked at each other. “ _Simon est réveillé_ .” Julie repeated perfectly and then she looked at the _Sturmhauptmann_ , an eagerly fierce grin on her face. In response the _Sturmhauptmann_ smiled as the radio broadcaster repeated the message; it was time to get to work. 

“Julie, Ulrich, Thedore, Gerd, and Luis you're with me. The rest of you stay here. We aren’t taking any ATRs. Ulrich, Gerd, and Julie I want one Bren, my MP38, and everyone else using rifles. Make sure you grab our bayonets, ammunition, and two Composition C satchel charges. Theodore and myself will look over the map one last time and plot how to get in and then get out without a hitch.” The _Sturmhauptmann_ ordered quickly as he slipped into the attitude of a man who had been in the military for a _long_ time. 

“Yessir!” Gerd replied and then he led the three other Germanians and the Gallian witch out to the back. Theodore meanwhile went upstairs to his room to grab the map of the local area that they had. The night was still young and there was lots of work to be done.

* * *

**June 22nd, 1942**

**Yokosuka, Jipang - Yokosuka Naval Witch Academy**

The skies were a shockingly bright azure that seemed to stretch out to the horizon as Tokyo Bay glittered in the morning sun, the few clouds in the sky were puffy and white. Senior Flight Cadet Miyafuji Yoshika hadn’t always wanted to be in the military even though her cousin Muto was in the military; in fact she didn’t want anything to do with the military, at least that is what it was for her originally. She found it funny how quickly her opinion had been changed in late 1940 when a witch named Tomoko had crashed on a routine training flight and after her grandmother had healed her, then took her back to Yokosuka Naval Witch Academy. It was then that she’d found out the true extent of the conflict.

To be frank, it had horrified her. She had always wanted to learn how to use her gift to protect people and hearing about the true extent of the war and that humanity’s only real trump card was the witches. Along with the fact that nearly all of Europe was under occupation and that if something wasn’t doesn’t soon the few remaining nations on the continent would fall, with heavy civilian and military casualties. It had made her realize that she wanted to join the military and fight the Neuroi, because if her presence would allow just a few more civilians or non-witch personnel to escape unharmed if things went bad, then she could do that. It was because of that she’d enlisted and then found out exactly how many career paths there were for a witch.

That was one thing she hadn’t been expecting, but she decided that she wanted to fly. Today, however, things were different, she wasn’t going up for a training mission instead herself and thirteen other witch cadets like her we’re sitting in one of the briefing rooms. Though she wasn’t entirely sure why only fourteen witch cadets had been summoned instead of her entire class. It was something that didn’t make sense at all. Still, whatever it was it had to be important since so few cadets had been summoned. 

The witch sitting next to her hummed in thought. “Miyafuji- _san_ , do you have any idea what’s going on?” the witch Senior Flight Cadet Hattori Shizuka, asked.

Yoshika started as she was brought out of her thoughts by the question. She looked at the slightly older witch and shook her head. “No I don’t Shizuka- _san_ , it's weird though. Not many of us have been summoned to the briefing room yet almost all of the witches here and from our class. So I have no idea what’s going on, but it must be important.” she replied, honestly she was just as confused as everyone else.

There was a click and the door opened, almost immediately everyone stood up and came to attention in a semi-synchronized thunder of movement. Yoshika wasn’t surprised to see Commodore Yokota Takuya, the commanding officer of the Yokosuka Naval Witch Academy, but the witch that followed him in was a surprise. One thing that stood out immediately was that the witch’s collar rank insignia was different from anything she had seen before. The rank insignia that the unknown witch was wearing had a rectangular dark blue field with a red border, two grey buttons on either end, and embroidered in the middle was a pair of gold oak leaves **[7]**.

Yoshika thought she heard a wave of murmurs as the Commodore and the unknown witch went to the front of the room. “As you were!” he barked and everyone resumed seating. However, the one thing that she did agree with was that something out of the ordinary was occurring. But the question was what? 

Whatever it was, though, she was extremely curious about it since she didn’t know who this witch was and from what she could gather, many of the other witches didn’t either. Then the Commodore spoke. 

“Alright, you're all wondering what this is about and I am going to be frank with you. You’ve all been selected as potential candidates for the 501st Joint Fighter Wing, also known as the Strike Witches in the Western European Theater. Here today is Squadron Leader Sakamoto Mio of the 501st JFW who will be declaring a simple task that will get you admitted into the 501st JFW which is currently based in Britannia.” Commodore Yokota announced firmly.

 _No way, there’s no way in heck this is happening. The 501st JFW is recruiting?_ Yoshika thought stunned as muttering broke out among the assembled witches, she had to restrain a sigh. Becoming a member of the Strike Witches or any JFW had been something that she’d been dreaming about since she first started attending Yokosuka Naval Witch Academy, but she knew in her heart that it likely wouldn’t happen. For the simple fact that there was nothing that made her special.

Why though? Why would an elite unit like the Strike Witches suddenly need replacements? The answer came to her almost immediately afterward with sickening dread. They needed replacements, which meant that they had suffered casualties. That was quite the sobering thought, the idea of joining the 501st JFW to simply replace someone else that had fallen in battle. Did she want to do that? Did she really want to replace someone else’s friend? To her surprise, she found that she couldn’t bear the idea of doing that. She would likely be considered an outsider to the others.

Then there was the fact that the 501st JFW was stationed in Britannia which was on the other side of the _planet_. So far away, mind-boggling far to the point of being difficult to comprehend. But she thought back to the letters she had gotten from Muto, things weren’t going really well in the Pacific either. However she knew almost nothing about the turnover rate in Europe, but it couldn’t possibly be as bad as Muto had implied it was in the Pacific, could it?

The voice of the Commodore brought her out of her musings. “In light of this, I am proud to present Squadron Leader Sakamoto Mio.” he said and with that he stepped aside and the witch, now revealed as Squadron Leader Sakamoto stepped up to the podium. The only thing that was really surprising to her was that the esteemed Squadron Leader had an eyepatch, if anything it made the Jipangese witch seem sort of cool actually since there was no sign of a scar which would have facilitated the need of an eyepatch. 

Then Sakamoto started speaking. “Good morning everyone, as you know I am Squadron Leader Sakamoto Mio of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. You are all here because you're the best of the best for this class of fighter witches. You all have your strengths and your weaknesses, but most importantly you _recognize_ those weaknesses and have managed to turn them into strengths; combined with your high proficiency in gunnery, formation flying, combat maneuvering, navigation, magic usage, and application of your personal magic. It makes you all qualify for recruitment into the 501st JFW. That said, we’re looking for _two_ , just two of you to join the 501st JFW. Thus, I have set up a simple challenge that will test your ability to navigate, endurance, teamwork, to plan tactically, to adapt to unexpected changes in a combat environment, and most importantly your combat maneuvering skills in a mock dogfight. Look at the witch next to you, because she’s going to be your best hope at getting into the 501st JFW.” Sakamoto said, her voice boisterous yet inspiring as her single eye prowled over all of them. 

Yoshika shuddered, how could _anyone_ say a speech that was so proud and inspiring sounding yet also sounded so _intimidating_? It was unnerving in more ways than one. Still, she was comforted by the fact that Shizuka was sitting next to her, out of the various witches sitting in this briefing room. The one witch that she trusted the most to have her back was Shizuka. 

“Now, I bet you're wondering who your opponent for the mock air battle is going to be.” the squadron leader continued and Yoshika swore she saw a predatory glimmer in her single eye and immediately had a bad feeling. “It's simple, it's going to be me.”

She blinked as she processed that information and then she slumped her shoulders. _Well, fuck._ She thought simply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - The flight equipment of a witch varies from country to country and it also depends a lot on the weapon that a witch carries; however it is similar. But typically in the early Neuroi War era they are wearing their regular with a flight jacket over it; if they are flying really high they often wear a sweater and a flight jacket along with a scarf and earmuffs if need be. All witches when flying high altitude missions also wear gloves to ward off frostbite. They also wear combat webbing to carry a lot of ammunition and they are rarely issued belt-feds. However, it should be noted that very few witches actually wear a parachute, instead relying on their shield to act as one. Other flight equipment includes an oxygen rig, a helmet, tinted goggles, a flight chronometer/chronograph (wristwatch) with compass built it, a small handheld paper map, and if they are assigned to the Navy they also wear a lifejacket, their combat webbing has a quick-release, and stored roughly where a parachute would be is a folded yellow life raft. The flight jacket and gloves are typically made from sheepskin with wool or cashmere for insulation. All of these things reduce the amount of magic that a witch needs to use in order to survive at high altitudes, hence increasing range. 
> 
> 2 - Angels is a pilot slang term for every 1,000 feet; so Angels One is 1,000-feet, Angels Two is 2,000 feet, Angels Three is 3,000 feet and so on.
> 
> 3 - The Reaper class Large Ground Attack Neuroi is my designation for the Large Neuroi that appears in the opening minutes of the Strike Witches Movie where it effortlessly wipes out not only a joint Karlsland-Liberion armored infantry force but also a multi-national fleet that contains the following: a Bismarck class Battleship, three King George V class Battleships, a Littorio class Battleship, a Takao class Heavy Cruiser, a Zara class Heavy Cruiser, Kagero class Destroyers, Akizuki class Destroyers, Soldati class destroyers. 
> 
> 4 - There are a bunch of ranks as well as fictional position names in foreign languages, I am going to clear them up
> 
> 4a - A Maréchal des logis-chef is the Gallian/French Army rank for roughly a Platoon Sergeant in the French Cavalry Corps. 
> 
> 4b - A Guardsman is the unique replacement rank for Private in all five of the Foot Guards Regiments in the British Army; I brought that over to the Britannian Army as well
> 
> 4c - A Lance Sergeant is a unique rank within the Foot Guards Regiments, it replaces the rank of Corporal and soldiers of that rank are denoted by three white chevrons on their dress uniform. A full sergeant in the Guards Regiments have three gold/yellow chevrons
> 
> 4d - A Combat Medical Witch Technician is the Britannian term for a Witch Combat Medic.
> 
> 4e - The Kaiserlich Demokratische Deutsche Armee rank of Panzerschütze is the unique rank of private; it translates literally as Armored Rifleman; they won’t be called Panzergrenadiers until October of 1942; they are identifiable by the fully tracked Schützenpanzerwagen that they ride in.
> 
> 4f - The Kaiserlich Demokratische Deutsche Armee rank of Unteroffizier is equal to roughly a Lance Corporal
> 
> 4g - Motorschütze is another rank within the Kaiserlich Demokratische Deutsche Armee like the rank of Panzerschütze it is equal to Private, however the Motorschützen ride in trucks and half-tracks rather than the fully tracked Schützenpanzerwagens.
> 
> 4h - The rank of Sturmhaumptmann within the Kaiserliche Germanische Sturmgarde translates to Storm Captain
> 
> 5 - The Gallian/French word Sorcière de char d'infanterie translates literally to Infantry Tank Witch.
> 
> 6 - Now then, the Kaiserliche Germanische Sturmgarde is something of my own creation. It translates to Imperial Germanian Storm Guard, more often though they will be referred to as the KGS or sometimes the GSG. They are descended from the Stoßtruppen that the Imperial Germanian Empire first used in 1915 and made use of them right up until the very end of The Great War. They are effectively my replacement for the SS.
> 
> 7 - Right, the JFWs do have their own rank devices, that way you don’t have to remember however many national rank devices there are for the various ranks. Thus, when done this way it’s simplified and makes life easier.


	4. Selection and Training

**0600 Hours, June 23, 1942**

**Yokosuka, Jipang - Yokosuka Naval Witch Academy**

Miyafuji Yoshika **[1]** had never been more nervous in her life, in just a few hours she would be going up against a squadron leader from the 501st JFW, to see if she was actually good enough to join the unit. It was a scary thought honestly, she was just a recruit going into a mock battle against an ace to see if she had the skills required to be accepted into one of the most elite military units on the planet. A unit that was on the other side of the  _ planet _ . 

She wanted to succeed so that she could make her wish of wanting to protect everyone come true. Yet at the same time did she really have the experience necessary to make the cut? That was something she didn’t know, but she  _ hoped _ that she did have what it took to satisfy Major Sakamoto. She wanted to go out and see the world and to have a chance to help people who needed it the most.

Yet at the same time, one small part of her mind was wondering if she could handle the stress of being so far away from home or if she had the skills to even make it worthwhile. She came up to her striker unit stand and crouched down in front of the Mitsubishi Type “0” A6M2b Model 21 Zero _ -sen _ **[2]** striker units, the gleaming orange paint and the proud black and red circular roundel of Jipang emblazoned upon it. 

Hard to believe that just a few months ago she’d been flying something slower and far less capable, but these strikers were hers and they performed like an absolute dream. She stood up as she heard footsteps behind her. Sure enough there was Shizuka and her white Shikoku dog familiar Daisuke at her heels. “Nervous?” her wingwitch asked.

“ _ Hai _ , I haven’t felt this nervous since before I took the entrance exam for the Academy.” She replied, shaking her head as she thought about it.

Shizuka smiled at her, sadly it didn’t last. “Good to know I am not alone in that respect, but  _ damn _ what are we going to do? Major Sakamoto has pretty much every single advantage over us, she has better equipment, more flying experience, and  _ combat _ experience. How are we going to win?” her wingwitch asked as she sat down heavily. Daisuke padded over next to Yoshika’s own Shiba Inu dog familiar, Kuji, and laid down next to him.

Truth be told, Yoshika had been giving that some thought as well and she had a theory. “I don’t think that’s it. The chances of us winning are low, so low as to be practically non-existent; Major Sakamoto isn’t expecting us to  _ win _ , she wants to see how long we can  _ survive _ .” she said after a moment.

Shizuka laughed bitterly. “That’s got me screwed then. My mana reserves are around average for a witch, but my shields are pathetically weak. I am half convinced that Major Sakamoto made a mistake in selecting me. You got a better chance of lasting long enough to be considered than I do.” 

Yoshika had to concede that fact, she figured that the reason she had been selected was because of the fact that the reserves of mana that her wellspring had were noticeably above average and that the durability of her shield was above average. But how did that make her special? So what if her mana reserves and shield were above average, that didn’t mean that she was special by any stretch of the imagination. So it made her wonder what the hell Shizuka- _ san _ was getting on about, she had been selected for a reason. “Shizuka- _ san _ , why are you always putting yourself down? You’re incredibly talented and you're the only witch I know that has fire magic and you’ve compensated for your weaker shields by training yourself to evade more, sort of like Karibuchi- _ san _ .”

Shizuka’s glum expression brightened somewhat as she pondered her words. “True, I have to ask though; I saw you talking to Hikari yesterday and I have to admit, I’ve never seen you look so serious before. What were you talking about?” She asked. 

Yoshika snorted in response, there was a damn good reason why she had talked to Karibuchi- _ san _ , the amount of mana in the runner trainee’s wellspring, it was below the median by a considerable margin. To the point that she was worried about her, if Karibuchi-san exhausted her wellspring too much it could have drastic consequences. Usually for a witch if they ignored the signs of magic exhaustion, it could result in them losing consciousness sort of like heat exhaustion or it could result in them straining their wellspring which typically resulted in them losing their magic for a period of time. But for a witch like Karibuchi- _ san _ , due to the low amount of mana that she had to begin with, if she pushed herself too hard, at best she would burn out her wellspring and not be able to use magic again. At worst, she could put herself in a coma that she would never come out of.

The fact that Shizuka wanted to know was something she  _ wasn’t  _ going to disclose. “I won’t say Shizuka- _ san _ . For the simple fact that what we discussed is between just me and Karibuchi- _ san _ . So can we instead discuss something more sensible like how to keep alive against a superior opponent?” she asked seriously, in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Her wingwitch sighed then sat down on a nearby bench and indicated for her to do the same. She sat down next to her and looked at her. Then her wingwitch started speaking. “Honestly, I got nothing. Our training units are nowhere near as good as what she’s packing, which is likely Model 52s; the Last Zero they are calling it. Plus she has the edge in experience, both flight and combat.” Shizuka- _ san _ said glumly. 

“The best I can think of is going straight at her, you're always better at this than I am.” She said looking at her friend and wingwitch. 

Shizuka gave a giggling snort at the suggestion. “It won’t work, I mean she would be expecting that; this isn’t something we can just rush in and make it up as we go along. The last time we did that during an exercise, you nearly got your ass shot off, figuratively speaking, by a  _ Shiden  _ that was playing the role of a Neuroi single-engine heavy fighter and the only reason it didn’t was because I got it before it could ‘kill’ you.” 

“Then what  _ can _ we do? I want to know, honestly.” She replied shaking her head.   


Shizuka smiled before speaking. “Remember how just over a month ago we had Colonel Francie Gillet **[3]** come over one day to give a lecture about western aerial combat maneuvers and how steelwing tactics can easily be applied to witches?”

Yoshika for her part nodded, it wasn’t hard to  _ not _ forget the Americaine witch, after all a lecture series from the highest scoring Americaine fighter witch from The Great War was something you tended to not forget. Particularly given the subject at hand for the lectures, which was learning about how you could apply steelwing tactics to witch combat. “Hard not to, so what do you have in mind?” she asked, knowing that Shizuka could be  _ very _ devious when it came down to it.

That was proven when her smile turned predatory. “I was thinking that we make the merge together and instead of immediately turning to engage her we gain some altitude and then we form a Lufbery Circle. It should work, but I dunno, she has combat experience so she might know the proper counter, in which case we would be fucked. That’s one way we could do it, the other way that I have thought about it is that we make the merge at high-speed and then split. She goes after one of us and then we set up a high-speed pass with each other, that should cause her to at least gain separation from us and allow us to figure out our next move.” Shizuka- _ san _ answered with a disconcerting grin on her face. 

“That would work, though what happens next depends on the Major’s decision to either climb, dive, or break.” She replied as the lessons she had been taught on air combat maneuvering came back to her.

“Best case scenario for us is if she breaks, our Zero _ -sens _ are a little more maneuverable than the Model 52s, if we’re unlucky she will have an N1J1 Model 11 at worst she’ll have an N1J1 Model 21.” Shizuka- _ san _ said, shaking her head.

“ _ Shidens _ .” Yoshka whispered, shuddering at the thought of facing Sakamoto- _ senpai _ when she was using those monsters. Even the original production version of the  _ Shiden  _ was  **vastly** superior to the A6M2bs that they were flying in just about every single way bar maneuverability. “If Sakamoto- _ senpai _ is using those then we are quite frankly fucked.” she said, internally shocked that she had cursed, her mother and to a much lesser extent her grandmother had despised her using language like that. 

Shizuka barked a bittered laugh. “Ain’t that the miserable truth. If she’s using A6M5s she’ll have a 430-horsepower advantage over us. If she’s flying  _ Shidens _ , that’s more like five hundred to seven hundred fifty. Is it little wonder why production of Zero _ -sen _ has stepped down and are now producing  _ Shidens _ ? Our only hope would be to keep the engagement mainly a maneuverability fight, if it becomes an energy fight….” she trailed off, leaving the statement hanging. 

“Ain’t that the truth Shizuka- _ san _ .” Yoshika complained, this seemed impossible. Where were they supposed to win against an opponent using vastly superior equipment? That’s when an idea hit her. “What if we are missing the point of the test entirely?” she asked.

Her wingwitch blinked and tilted her head in surprise. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Major Sakamoto would want to test our ability to make snap decisions when the situation unexpectedly changes. My  _ Sobo  _ **[1]** ,  _ ane  _ **[1]** , and  _ ani  _ **[1]** actually said that sometimes you have to consider the strategic situation when it comes to facing an unknown enemy. Honestly, we might want to think about this with a strategic mindset, she’s playing at something here.” she said as she thought back to what her grandmother and brother had told her.

Shizuka blinked. “What makes you think that the Major is using this to test our strategic thinking?”

In truth? That was just a feeling and the more she thought about this test, the greater the feeling became. At least, that’s what she thought, when your brother was a renowned fighter ace and your grandmother was a military veteran that had served in no less than three different wars; you tended to think a little differently about things, to the point that you viewed them from a different angle. She wasn’t really sure though if she should tell Shizuka what was making her think like that.

But she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to go to Britannia. She could live with being deployed to the Mu Island  **[4]** or even to Amerrique since they were still rather close to Jipang. But Britannia was so far away, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle the stress of it. That was the worrying part for her, fighting so far away from home.

“Just a feeling.” she answered.

Shizuka sighed. “Dammit Yoshika, if you keep going with your gut instinct that’s going to end badly for you one day.”

Yoshika had to concede that point. She knew that at times she was overly aggressive in the air; but she wasn’t fatally so. But there had been a number of times where her gut had proven to be correct and it had prevented full blown FUBARs from occurring. “You’re right, but there have been times when I’ve gone with my gut and it all worked out. I guess it really depends on the situation.” she said.

Shizuka snorted. “More often than not it doesn’t-” the black-haired witch says before she’s cut off by a loud roar and two witches wearing Zero- _ sen _ units painted training orange go screaming down the runway. They fairly leap into the air and they shoot off into the morning sky, the magic engines letting out a throaty roar as they climb, quickly becoming mere dots in the distance.

“There go Goshiki- _ chan _ and Hayate- _ chan _ .” She notes watching as the two dots that are her friends turn just over ninety degrees and begin heading south. “They were my first real friends here.” she added as they quickly recede from view.

Shizuka sighed. “We’re going to be the last pair going up. Remember what was said this morning: pairs are taking off every twenty minutes. Which means we go up at 0810 for our mock battle against the Major.” she replied. 

Two hours, they had to wait for two hours before they could start their sortie. That was a long period of time, if there was one thing that she hated, it was long waits. She was nervous yet at the same time also eager. Why she was though, she didn’t know.

Time passed and sure enough at 0630, two more witches went thundering down the runway. Their magic engines howled and they too practically leaped into the air fairly soon after starting their takeoff rolls quickly disappearing into the clear azure skies, heading towards the range.

More time passed and more witches took off. At 0730, she stood up and walked to the locker room and opened her locker. There she shrugged into her heavy flight jacket, in theory Yoshika knew that she could fly without one and make up for it by using her magic to protect against frostbite, hypothermia, oxygen deprivation, and protecting her eyes at high altitudes. But that had a massive downside as it would mean taking a big hit to how far she could fly, particularly when she did all three. She was tempted to not take the hefty coat, but she knew from experience that paint bullets  _ hurt _ , they rarely left life threatening injuries due to how they were made but they often left very painful welts along with splattering you with a water soluble paint. With that done, she grabbed her gloves and aviator hat and then left the locker room.

She walked down to her strikers and went through a walk around, she knew that her Chief would let her know if anything was amiss. But doing it was an important part of her training. She ran her hand over the leading edge and checked the various control surfaces, good they were all responsive. Then she checked the emitters for the magic propellers, complete with Kuji giving the emitters a sniff, if there were any blockages she would have to get her Chief, but they had none. That was a relief, a blockage would mean being down for most of the day while it was fixed. Final checks included the intakes for the magic engine and removing the tags and donned her gloves. 

‘Now, Yoshika?’ Kuji “spoke” to her in her mind.

‘Now.’.

Kuji glowed brightly for a moment before turning into a ball of light that quickly zoomed over and merged with Yoshika. As Yoshika felt the sensation of Kuji merging his soul with hers’, she could also feel the familiar sensation of Kuji’s ears and tail emerging from top of her head and her lower back respectively. There was that brief moment in which her felt nothing from her new body parts, before something clicked and suddenly her new ears and tail heard and moved as though she had had them her entire life.

Now she fitted her microphone buds in her ears. “Shizuka- _ san _ , comm check?” she asked. 

“ _ I am here Yoshika, reading you five-by-five. _ ” Shizuka replied. 

“Good, ready to go?” The moment of truth where they were going to be beginning their mission was beginning.

“ _ Hai! _ ” her wingwitch replied.

She glanced at her flight chronometer, it was time. “Contact!” she shouted and with a growling buzz the magic engines kicked over, tiny propellers materializing and spinning up to idle. “Tower, this Toaster Flight requesting taxi clearance to runway, over.” she requested, resisting the urge to groan. The flight designation they got sounded a little ridiculous. 

“ _ Confirmed Toaster Flight, you're clear to taxi to runway nine, over _ ” the man in the ATC replied, sounding bored.

“Affirmative, Toaster Flight taxiing over” she said as her gun, loaded with paint rounds slid out and she grabbed it. “Release!”

With a metallic  _ clack _ , the clamps disengaged and she leaned back, she had heard that a lot of western nations had developed striker units that apparently hovered, meaning they didn’t require landing gear. If anything she felt more confident with actual wheels under her, she applied a bit of power and leaned forward as she let her machine gun rest against her front as she donned her cap.

She applied rudder and swung out of the hangar, getting onto the taxiway, heading towards the runway, a broad expanse of grey that seemed to flow up into the azure sky that was like a road into the heavens. Yoshika couldn’t help it, she smiled as Shizuka drew up next to her, she checked the various control surfaces on her strikers: elevators, ailerons, rudders, flaps, cowling flaps, good they were all responsive. “Tower, this is Toaster Flight, requesting permission to take-off, over.”

“ _ Permission for take-off granted Toaster Flight, after take-off make your course one-nine-five and ascend to Angels three. Have a nice day, over. _ ” The controller replied to her request.

“Affirmative tower, Toaster Flight commencing take-off roll, see you in a couple of hours, out.” she replied then brought her goggles down and increased power, the magic engines roared like lions and she accelerated down the runway, before she knew it, she was auto rotating and climbing upwards into the heavens. It felt good, feeling the wind on her face as she climbed into the heavens. She pitched herself to one side and manipulated the control surfaces, the strikers reacted gamely and she turned away from the Yokosuka heading south.

In the distance, she could see Mount Fuji, the legendary volcano with its pristine cone and snow-covered peak was a glittering symbol for all of the Jipangese people. Like that mountain, they were resolute and unflinching in their resolve, willing to see things through to the end. Yet she could also Tokyo Bay, a glittering blue expanse that sparkled like diamonds, the wakes of maneuvering ships and boats cut fine white paths through it as they moved with a purpose. The city of Yokosuka was nestled up against the bay, it all looked so serene. It reminded why she had enlisted, it wasn’t to just kill the Neuroi, but it was to protect those who needed it, not just her family. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she asked.

“ _ Aye, it is. Seeing that never does get old. Helps remind you what we’re fighting for. Still, you remember the plan, right? _ ” Shizuka replied.

“ _ Hai _ , I do. We test the waters before fully committing, that way we can keep our options open.” She said, thinking about it more and more, she was thinking that maybe they should tackle it a little differently. “Though maybe we shouldn’t make it obvious that we are testing the waters. We play aggressively but we’re still ready to disengage.” 

She looked at Shizuka and could tell that she thought that plan was crazy, but maybe that’s why she thought it would work. But the trick would be making sure to not be overly aggressive and end up over committing, something that admittedly she wasn’t good at. Shizuka- _ san _ would have been right to tell her that her idea was crazy.

A moment passed, the only sound being that of her strikers and that of her wingwitch. Then Shizuka- _ san _ surprised her. “ _ How aggressive do you want to play this? _ ” she asked.

“I don’t know, I think I’ll know better when we get to the training range and get an idea of what we are facing.” Yoshika replied, honestly she wasn’t sure what to expect, but being a little aggressive couldn’t hurt, would it?

She could see Shizuka nodding out of the corner of her eye; just the fact that they were in agreement was good. Agreeing on courses of action could be difficult at times given how stubborn she could be. But taking this course of action made sense.

It was about a two hour haul from Yokosuka to the range near Kure. A couple of times, they saw dots on the horizon that could only be witches or fighters; maybe both on normal patrols keeping watch for the Neuroi.

Before long, the various islands that marked out the range slid into view. “Shizuka- _ san _ , you wanna be the combat leader?” she asked.

There was a pause. 

“ _ No, I don’t _ .”

Yoshika was surprised, Shizuka had all the hallmarks of being a good combat leader, unlike her. But that said even though she also had her moments of not making brilliant decisions, compared to herself however, Shizuka didn’t have them occur as often. Plus she could come up with great plans and she often served as an impromptu leader, but she hated being forced into the role of combat leader.

“ _ Right, switch your magic engine over to combat mode. I want to enter the range at low altitude at high speed; our strikers perform better down there. _ ” she said.

Yoshika nodded, that sounded like a good plan. The Zero strikers were some of the best in the world at maneuvering at low altitude, not even vaunted Britannian Spitfires could keep up with Zeros. She shifted engine modes and all the gauges perked up as the engine tapped into more power. Then she put herself into a shallow descent. 

Several minutes later they had gone from Angels twenty to a more comfortable Angels twelve. Her eyes were constantly scanning and searching, two minutes into their search Shizuka- _ san _ called out. “ _ Contacts, eight o’clock high. Tally five  _ Shidens _ , going by the paint scheme they are instructors from one of the nearby squadrons. Let’s get them! _ ”

Something was wrong, it just didn’t feel right. “Negative Shizuka- _ san _ ! Something doesn’t feel right!”

It took her a moment to figure out what she meant. “ _ Well fuck, your right. If we go for  _ Shidens _ , I bet that the Major will be on our ass in an eye-blink. _ ”

Finding the Major turned out to be fairly easy, the sunlight glinted off the barrel of her weapon as she swept in low. “I got eyes on her, two o’clock low. How do you want to play this?” she asked.

Shizuka was quiet for several long seconds as she contemplated her decision. “ _ We sock in on her, those  _ Shidens  _ will be all over us in a heartbeat and if we go for  _ Shidens _ , the Major will be on us pretty fast. I honestly got nothing. _ ” 

Yoshika remembered what her  _ Senseis  _ had told her, how she was unpredictable and oftentimes way too aggressive for her own good, which could if she wasn’t careful get her killed. Maybe it was time to show some of that extreme aggressiveness. “Shizuka- _ san _ , how long would you need to remove those  _ Shidens  _ from the equation?” she asked.

Shizuka- _ san _ hummed in thought for a moment. “ _ Two maybe three minutes.  _ Shidens  _ are pretty fast and fairly maneuverable, but five  _ Shidens  _ might be pushing it for a single witch given their performance and firepower. Wait, what are you suggesting? _ ” she asked.

Yoshika sighed, she hated this decision because there was a lot that could go wrong. “We split up and fight on two fronts. My shield is known to be one of the strongest in our class and you're noted to be one of the most maneuverable witches in our class. I’ll go after Sakamoto and you go after those  _ Shidens _ . I feel that if I use my shield that I can last long enough against Major Sakamoto for you to take care of the Shidens and then to come downstairs. But it’s your call.” she said.

“ _That has a lot of things where it can go wrong, but it's better than climbing to meet the_ Shidens _and giving the Major a clean shot up our tails._ _Alright, if it gets too hairy though, let me know and I’ll disengage to come in and help._ ” her wingwitch replied and Yoshika nodded. “ _Right, break!_ ” 

Instinct took over, she shifted her weight forward and did the proper movements with her legs to manipulate the controls; immediately she peeled away from Shizuka who was flitting upwards. She checked over her weapon, confirming that paint rounds were loaded, raked the slide, and flicked off the safety. Her strikers howled as she dove, her speed increasing as she dove. 

She raised her weapon and was just beginning to pull the trigger when Sakamoto- _ senpai _ reacted. She seemingly spun in-place and brought her weapon, an Americaine-made M2W Browning, effectively a brick with a pipe and a large magazine jutting out from one side to bear. “SHIT!” she shouted and threw herself sideways, frantically trying to evade that damn muzzle as the weapon roared its cry. Tracers went arching through the sky.

The part of her mind that wasn’t terrified out of her mind noted that the Major was using short-controlled bursts. She brought her Type 99 to bear and returned fire, the bellow of the 13.2x96mm weapon filled her ears and her own paint rounds splattered upon the Major’s shield. 

The Major went vertical in an attempt to loop around her, in response she twisted to keep herself facing her opponent as her own weapon clattered. Then the Major surprised her and dove away and she turned about to follow. 

Yoshika wasn’t surprised when the Major began pulling away, the older witch was using a heavier weapon and likely carrying a heavier ammunition load. But she seemed to be separating impossibly fast as she dove for the deck. Crap, that probably confirmed the theory that she was using  _ Shiden _ striker units, since those were heavier than Zero- _ sens _ . 

With at least two or three thousand feet of distance on her, the Major suddenly pulled a real sharp Chandelle turn, swinging hard to the left in a minimum radius climbing turn towards her, firing as the Major completed the maneuver.

_ ‘Seriously?!’ _ Yoshika thought as a sensation of danger welled up from within, a moment later her shield flashed in front of her, she replied with rounds of her own as they screamed towards the merge. Then they both snapped on to their sides and screamed past each other.

Yoshika threw herself to the right.  _ I gotta use my maneuverability to outplay her if she’s using Shidens! _ She thought frantically as she came around, like she expected, she was  _ much _ more maneuverable than the Major, but she was coming around far too fast. Yoshika thought back to the previous tangles she’d had with instructors using  _ Shiden _ strikers, none of them could corner like that!

Wait. She squinted and frowned, the wing placement and exhaust configuration seemed wrong for  _ Shiden _ striker units, if anything that wasn’t a mid wing, it almost looked like a low wing. Oh hell. “Shizuka- _ san _ , I think the Major is flying some sort of prototype.” 

There was a pause. “ _ Fuck. I’ll be downstairs in a bit, I am almost done mopping up the Shidens. _ ”

“Make it quick!” Yoshika yelped as she applied a rudder and skidded away from the Major’s gunsight, her shield flared brilliantly as that sensation went through her again but something or several somethings went  _ thunk _ against her strikers. The Type 99 HMG she held retaliated and rounds reached out to splatter harmlessly upon the major’s shield. 

Yoshika knew that the Major was pretty much all over her, she was way too fast and way too maneuverable, she hadn’t seen anything like those before. What the hell were they? That discussion she had with Shizuka- _ san _ over two hours ago about the Major possibly testing their ability to make decisions that could affect the strategic picture came back to her.

“Shizuka- _ san _ , how long do you think it’ll be before you can get down here?” She asked as she threw herself into a defensive climb, effectively laying on her back as she climbed upwards, firing her machine gun at the Major as she did so. 

“ _ Not long, I’ve just removed the last  _ Shiden  _ from the equation, why? _ ” Shizuka asked, she sounded suspicious for some reason.

“It might be better if you disengage and exit the range, remember how rules of engagement are set up for this.” She replied, throwing herself into a downward defensive spiral before the Major could line up an easy point blank shot, despite that paint rounds still splattered upon her shield. 

“ _ What makes you say that? _ ” 

“The Major has me completely defensive, I don’t know what the hell she’s using but it makes the Model 21  _ Shiden  _ striker units look like a total joke and it's made disengaging almost impossible. The maneuverability advantage isn’t as big as I thought it would be and whatever she’s using can climb and dive like nothing I’ve ever seen before. If this is a test of strategic thinking...” She trailed off, leaving the words hang.

There was silence and the Jipangese witch hoped that Shizuka could see the logic in her decision making. She was being forced lower and lower by the Major, her Zeros were becoming more maneuverable, but she just didn’t have the time to use that maneuverability against her opponent. She twisted around and began flying on her back as the Major got another snapshot into her shield, she was completely committed to the flat scissors she was in. Any maneuver to try and break away would get spotted practically instantly and in a superior position due to the constant amount of vertical that she was using, those prototypes had a rate of climb that was insane. 

For witches, the Scissors wasn’t completely a fight of snapshots like it was with steelwings, this was something that she knew and that just by rolling onto her back she could make it a more even fight because it would allow her to shoot back. But she had to balance that between also orienting herself facing forwards so that she wouldn’t crash either.

“ _ Yoshika are you sure? I can make a high-speed slashing attack if need be then zoom climb and do it again, so what makes you so confident that this is a test for our strategic thinking? _ ” Shizuka asked.

No question, she was positive about it. “I didn’t expect her to be using some sort of  _ Shiden _ variant, I’ve never seen anything like it. If this were an actual combat mission, I can tell you that the intelligence that can be gleaned just by  _ knowing _ about it is much more important. Just that information alone would allow for others to be protected from it.” she said, citing why she had joined the military in the first place, so that she could protect everyone.

To her eternal surprise, Shizuka snarled assertively. “ _ Negative, I am not disengaging not when I can help my wingwitch; here’s what we are going to do. I am going to make a high-speed pass at her and then while she’s evading and coming around to get on my six, you climb before looping over the top and dive in on her. While she’s evading and socking in on your six o’clock, I loop around on her and make another high-speed pass at her, forcing her to go evasive again, at which point you pounce on her, executing a high-g Chandelle turn to come back around and engage. _ ” 

She blinked, Shizuka had never been so firm before, sure Shizuka- _ san _ could be an excellent leader given past performances, but she was also reluctant to be a leader, believing that she didn’t have what it took to be one. But just by how she took charge suddenly, they now had a plan that they could use to win.

“Roger that!” Yoshika replied, turning on to her back to fire more bursts at the major, the paint rounds splattering across her shield. Maybe with Shizuka’s plan they could win against the Major as her shield flashed in front of her with more paint rounds splattering upon it.

Then the Major kicked over and disengaged, her shield flashing as paint rounds slashed downwards upon her as Shizuka came screaming downwards. The Major brought her own weapon to bear and fired, sending rounds flying towards her wingwitch. She pitched herself upwards, applying back pressure and zoom climbed into the heavens, she gained two thousand feet, then increased angle of attack and entered a loop.

It was fairly easy to pick out Shizuka and the Major, the bright orange and sharp white paint of their striker units respectively stood out sharply against the greens and blues of the islands and the surrounding waters. She  _ hoped _ this would work as she nosed over much faster and sharper than any steelwing or canvas-bag fighter could ever hope to do and dove, the gauges spun and she could feel the controls stiffening as her speed increased.

She focused on her target, she brought her machine gun up to her shoulder, peered down the sights and calculated the amount of lead in her head, and her machine gun’s muzzle blazed fire. The Major’s shield flashed into existence as she pivoted around almost immediately, her Browning coming up. On instinct she pitched up, rolled over the top and dove again as tracers where she had been as Shizuka broke away and climbed while the Major turned into her. She tried tracking her, but the Major had added a slight climb into her defensive turn and it threw her attempts to direct follow up bursts off at her.

She flashed past her, pulled up and cut a harsh turn in the direction the Major had been climbing as she looked around for her and she gasped in shock and felt her eyes grow wide as she spotted her, rolling over the top to execute her own dive. 

_ ‘How was that possible?!’ _ She thought frantically as she pitched up and turned in towards the Major to force an overshoot while bringing her weapon to bear and firing. 

Her rounds slashed through the sky and splattered upon the Major’s shield as she retaliated. In response, Yoshika summoned her shield and yelped when something  _ vroomped _ past her ear, there was a neat hole punched in her shield. She swore under her breath, cursing the designers of the striker unit variant of the Type 0 fighter series. Good though it was in most respects, the foci arrays had a nasty habit of not working at their listed specifications and as Yoshika had learned, it usually happens at the most inconvenient time possible, like now. Great.

She glanced herself over, good she hadn’t been hit even if her shield getting holed had scared the crap out of her, which made sense. Having a hole appear in the magical barrier that was supposed to protect you from being given a new chest cavity would be terrifying. 

The Major screamed overhead and she reversed her turn to follow her and was shocked when Sakamoto began to enter a  _ backflip  _ in order to turn the tables on her! Yoshika fired at her and the paint rounds splattered on the Major’s shield.

That’s when Shizuka pounced.

The Imabari City native witch came screaming down out of the heavens almost perpendicular to the Major, her machine gun blazing. The Major twisted to try and bring her shield to bear, but the distance and velocity of the paint rounds, she jerked and cried out in surprise as orange splatters and smears appeared. 

“ _ All witches, roll wings to level, safeties on. Exercise is over, ascend to Angels Five for final report. _ ” The Major said with what sounded like pride in her voice.

“Roger Major.” Yoshika replied as she formed up with Shizuka and they climbed higher and higher into the azure skies. She glanced at her flight chronometer and felt her jaw slacken, the duel hadn’t even been ten minutes, yet it had felt weirdly both longer and shorter than that. Just that alone told her what to expect combat wise, it would feel long when in reality it was very fast.

“How are you feeling?” Yoshika turned to Shizuka who was now flying off her wing.

“ _ I am just surprised it was over so fast. _ ” Shizuka replied, still coming off the adrenaline. The pair soon rejoined the rest of the squadron, the rest had paint all over them to varying degrees, which juxtaposed Yoshika and Shizuka who barely had a lick of paint on them.

“ _ What? How did you two barely get splattered? _ ” Another recruit called out. This got the attention of everyone.

Shizuka barked a bitter laugh. “ _ She grazed me a couple of times, probably got hit once or twice in the strikers. _ ”

Yoshika gave her strikers a once over and grimaced. “If that had been real, I would be lucky to still be flying.” she said shocked as she looked at the three neat splatters along the fuselage of her left striker unit and the smear of paint near the right wingtip. 

“ _ Alright, listen up everyone, our guest officer has something to say for you. _ ” Junko announced as she formed up with the trainees. The trainees stiffened at what Sakamoto had to say but their jaws couldn’t help but drop when they saw the Major, one of the most elite witches in the world was riddled in paint. The question in all but two was “ _ Who got the drop on the Major? _ ”. Junko then nodded to her and she cleared her throat.

“ _ Well girls, _ ” Sakamoto began, “ _ Excellent work out there, I see Junko has been training you well but I can see a lot of room for improvement. However… you will have to learn fast because given the state of the war, we are going to need as many as you can but right now, you girls aren’t up to standard; There are some things you can and can’t do when facing an opponent with an advantage and even then in certain situations. Isn’t that right, Recruit Akiyama Toshika? _ ”

There was a very audible nervous giggle coming from a brown haired witch that right now, had more orange in it than brown.

“ _ Another thing, not everything is black and white, especially in combat. Just because the paper says you can’t fight it doesn’t mean it is impossible. A fox can outmatch a bear if it knows what to do. So don’t get nervous and overthink, but don’t get too cocky and dive right in. There is a sweet spot between the two and I can tell from experience, everyone has different sweet spots. _ ” Sakamoto lectured, “ _ I will give each pair their individual assessments when we get back to base, understood? _ ”

“ _ Yes, ma’am, _ ” the fliers replied.

“ _ I can’t hear anything. _ ” Mio replied.

“ _ YES, MA’AM! _ ” They repeated, much louder this time.

“ _ Good, now back to Yokosuka. It is almost lunchtime. _ ” Mio said and together they peeled away.

* * *

**1000 Hours, June 22nd, 1942**

**Hawaiian Islands, Midway Atoll**

The airfield was named after the atoll it stood upon and contrary to popular belief there were barely any palm trees on the island, it was mostly shrubs and grass, along with sand. Despite that, the thunder of radials still shook the island as Americaine and Jipangese fighters and witches carved an intricate dance through the skies, contrails twisting, curving, climbing, and diving around, carving intricate geometries as every now and again streams of tracers floated through the sky while occasionally something runic flashed. 

Nearly five minutes later, the aerial combat exercise was over and then came the next part, a short distance beyond the coral reef of the atoll, a Jipangese-flagged but Americaine-built  _ Evarts _ class Destroyer Escort streamed out a target as more planes, Americaine SBD-2s and SB2U-3s with Marine Corps markings flew resolutely alongside Jipangese Yokosuka D4Y2s. The dive bombers and the few dive bomber witches formed up in a nose-to-tail formation and dove, their engines howling with dive brakes out. 

It readily became apparent who was more experienced just by looking at the approach methods the two groups used, the Americaines came howling in at an angle approaching 45-degrees while the Jipangese screamed down like demons at 65-degrees or more. As they made their runs and released, plumes of water danced up around the target as they dropped on it, but some did hit the target with their practice bombs or at least came close enough that a detonation would have done some damage to the ship. 

But for the heavily paint splattered Buffalos, Wildcats, and witches of VMF-221, despite how much they and their fellow Marines in VMSB-241 had improved ever since the Tainan  _ Kōkūtai _ had been transferred from Mu Island and the heavy fighting occurring there. They had a problem that actual air combat maneuvering training couldn’t fix. A problem that had Major Florence “Red” Parks **[3]** , Commanding Officer of VMF-221 worried as hell as she stepped into the showers to wash-off after the morning exercises. 

One that she reviewed for the umpteenth time as water cascaded down on her and she rubbed profusely with soap to try and get the paint that had leached through her uniform and onto her as well as the paint that had gotten into her red hair out.

That problem wasn’t that her Marines were learning too slowly, if anything they were extremely eager to learn and it was showing for every time they went up for exercises they always did a little better. No, the problem was their equipment, they had old and obsolete Brewster F2A-3 Buffalos and some newer but still rather underwhelming Grumman F4F-3A Wildcats. Florence loved the Marine Corps, but at the moment she  _ hated  _ the United States Navy because they had given the Corps these hand-me down fighters and striker units. If the Neuroi ever attacked Midway for some godforsaken reason, it made her wonder how many of her aviators would be sent home in a coffin, that question and the answer to it honestly scared her more than the question of would she also get sent home in a coffin. 

Ten minutes later she turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself, gathered her things before going back to the Locker room, where a quick change of uniform had her feel much better. She glanced at her watch and sighed before walking out her door and heading to Colonel Kimes’ office. Along the way she was met by Captain Masahisa Saitō, Commanding Officer of the Tainan  _ Kōkūtai _ who greeted her with a pleasant smile and a salute which she returned.

Florence knew that the man’s air group had barely gotten out of Taiwan alive when the Neuroi had launched their blitzkrieg in Asia in November of 1941. After that his unit had been sent to Mu Island and now they were here. “Something wrong Major?” he asked, noting her disposition. 

She sighed deeply. “It's not something you can fix, Captain, not at all. I got twelve Buffalo pilots, nine Buffalo witches, six Wildcat pilots, and two Wildcat witches under my command. Your mechanics and ours have worked miracles getting the Buffalos as combat ready as possible but considering your Model 52 Zeros and Model 21  _ Shidens _ just completely outperform the Buffalos. Only my Wildcats really got a proper foot to stand on against you and even then the F4F-3A isn’t a stellar aircraft by any stretch, even though it's tough as hell. Its performance is lacking because of its supercharger. It's making me worried about how my aviators will fare against them.” the Americaine witch replied as they continued walking. 

Saitō grunted in response. “Tell me about it, your pilots have improved remarkably but the equipment your unit has is just letting them down. I am actually surprised that you got Buffalos, I was actually expecting to see more Wildcats.” he said.

Despite how she felt at that moment, Florence couldn’t help but bark a thin brittle laugh. “The Marine Corps has always been last or almost last when it comes to receiving new equipment. Hell, the Buffalos are worn out pieces of crap, I consider myself lucky to have the Wildcats that I got. But I feel that if I just had some more Wildcats, my squadron might fare better against the Neuroi if they show.” she said.

Saitō gave her a surprised look. “I am surprised that the USMC gets new equipment last, you would think that they would get new equipment sooner due to how important of a branch it is.” he said.

Florence sighed again. “That’s what you would think too, but nope my squadron is stuck with worn out aircraft and striker units that’s probably going to get most of my aviators killed.” she said.

Saitō shook his head. “Are you sure there's nothing that I can do to help?” he asked.

Florence snorted. “Not unless you can give me Buffalos with a much better engine or more Wildcats somehow.” 

The Jipangese pilot chucked in response “Can’t do that ma’am, I wish I could, hell I wish that I was a magician, but alas I am not and thus can’t do the magic bullshit you want me to do.” and despite how she felt regarding the equipment her squadron had, that statement was just so amusing. 

Before she could stop herself, laughter was slipping past her lips.

“You alright ma’am?” Saitō asked her after a minute and Florence gave him a look as she finally got over her laughter.

“Yes Captain, I am. It’s just, good Lord, I needed that.” She replied, still giggling slightly.

They reached Colonel Kimes’s office a few moments later and exchanged farewells with the Jipangese Captain. Then after preparing herself for the upcoming meeting, she knocked on the door. “Come in.” the Colonel called and Florence opened the door before stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

“Major Florence Parks reporting as ordered sir.” she said as she came to attention. 

“As you were Major. Please be seated.” Colonel Ira Kimes, her CO was a stern faced man with balding hair but she knew under that intimidating exterior was a man who cared a lot about his unit and right now he looked rather sullen as if he had been given horrible news.

“Thank you sir.” Florence said as she took a seat. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

The Colonel sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “During this morning’s exercises Major, the radio shack got a transmission from Pearl Harbor. Intelligence has cracked the code, we know where the Neuroi are going to be striking next.” He said.

Florence perked up with anxiousness and dread, she was eager to learn where the Neuroi were going to be hitting next but also dreading it. “Where are they hitting, sir?” she asked.

“That’s the thing Major, according to the communique, the aliens are going to be hitting  _ here _ . Their original intention was to attack Midway and lure both our Carriers and those of the Jipangese into a trap and destroy them. We believe that they’ve come to the conclusion that they need to destroy our aircraft carriers because of the fact that we gave them brutal thrashing at the Battle of the Coral Sea to stop their invasion of Port Moresby which would have resulted in them having a position from which they could invade Australis and New Zeeland along with threaten the convoys keeping them alive.” the man said.

Florence’s heart went into freefall as dread came over her, the nightmare she’d been worrying about, nay, actively  _ fearing _ had just become reality. “H-here sir?” her voice cracked and she took a deep breath to recompose herself. “My squadron isn’t combat ready and it's not because we’re not properly trained, thanks to the Jipangese I am more confident than I would be otherwise but because of our equipment. With respect sir, if we were to fight the Neuroi tomorrow, most of my aviators won’t be coming home.” she said shakily. 

Colonel Kimes nodded in response. “I had a feeling you would say that Major and I would agree, thankfully Admiral Nimitz, Lord knows how he did it, managed to acquire enough F4F-3As to equip the better part of two divisions for us, he also got us some of those new Corsairs that are starting to hit the CONUS Marine Squadrons. However, we'll still be stuck with eight Buffalos and two Buffalo striker units despite all of this.” he said.

Hope bloomed within Florence, she couldn’t believe it and realized that it might just be possible that her squadron wouldn’t be reduced to a shattered wreck by the Neuroi, however there was a thing that bugged her. “Remind me to send something nice to Admiral Nimitz when the Navy has its anniversary in October. He probably made a lot of people angry by getting us those fighters but he probably just saved a lot of lives. Still, Colonel, if anyone is going to be flying the death trap that those Buffalo strikers are, it's going to be me. I am not going to consign one of my girls to having a high-chance of being killed-in-action just because I decided to take one of the new striker units.” she said firmly. 

The Colonel raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You sure Major?” he asked.

Florence nodded. “I am positive sir. I won’t let one of my girls fly that death trap.” she said firmly.

Colonel Kimes sighed but nodded. “Consider the paperwork done Major, good luck up there.” 

“Thank you sir.” Florence replied with a smile.

“Alright, dismissed.” Colonel Kimes said and they exchanged salutes and she walked out of the Colonel’s office and closed the door, she started walking towards the barracks where her squadron had been posted in. 

Things were looking up it seemed, her squadron was getting new aircraft to replace the decrypt relics that they currently had, plus her squadron was being brought up to establishment strength. It was as if Christmas had come early it seemed!

Shouts and whoops caught her attention, it made her pause. What the hell was going on? Curiosity enrapturing her, she followed the noise to its source and came upon a sight that made her jaw drop. Her marines were gathered around the ramp, there was a competition going on it seemed, one that she recognized with a groan. 

Buffalo pulling. 

It was a simple game requiring teams composed of three witches and two pilots - the objective was to pull an F2A-3 Buffalo that was being cannibalized for spare parts as far as possible within a set time limit. She couldn’t brief her Marines when they were distracted by  _ this _ . With a growl, her familiars, a Golden Retriever popped into existence and she channeled her magic into her voice and throat. “HEY!” she roared as loudly as humanly possible. “WHAT THE  _ FUCK  _ ARE YOU KNUCKLEHEADS DOING?” she demanded irritably.

Suffice to say, the resulting mad scramble to attention was very satisfying to watch as she stalked over.

* * *

**1000 Hours, June 22nd 1942**

**Salisbury Plains, Britannia**

The interior of the Churchill Mk IV Infantry Tank was stuffy but not overly hot, yet it was still uncomfortable, the rattling drone of its engine was constant and consistent. The rumble from two other tanks exactly like it rose up in a crescendo that was somewhat muted by the trees. All three of them however didn’t have the markings that would identify them as Britannian tanks but instead they bore the markings of Dominion of Vesperia.

Lieutenant Milo Clarkson gazed upon a map as he stood in the commander’s hatch. His troop wasn’t that far from where they needed to be, a simulated town that was being held by the Neuroi. His unit needed to act as a spearhead, pushing through the alien defensives in order to open the path for simulated infantry to clear out the town while his unit pushed on ahead.

According to Britannian Imperial Commonwealth doctrine, Churchill Tanks such as his could win battles by themselves. He honestly wasn’t so sure if that was true, his tanks were tough yes, but they couldn’t operate alone and the idea of using infantry tank witches as the tip of the spear in armored spearheads had died horribly during Operation Battleaxe, along with most of the 4th Royal Tank Regiment’s C-Squadron, their lone witch squadron. But granted they had run into alien resistance that had been  _ much _ heavier than expected and he knew that was the thing with witches, they were absolutely monstrous in combat due to their magic and shields which gave them a better margin of safety than regular soldiers however, that margin of safety vanished when things suddenly went FUBAR. That lesson had been a hard bitter pill for everyone to swallow.

He shook the feeling off. The Squadron that his troop was a part of would be moving out soon. That said he wasn’t exactly sure what they were training for but something big seemed to be brewing. The radio buzzed. “ _ B Squadron, move out and advance towards Objective Alpha. _ ” Captain Bates ordered. 

“You heard the man move out!” he ordered.

“Roger.” Private Cody Fox replied and the Churchill’s engine roared as the tracks clattered, the vehicle jerked forward and began advancing. The day was fresh and who knew, maybe if they succeeded in taking not only Objective Alpha, but also Bravo and Charlie as well which were also in their sector, then maybe the Squadron would earn the reward regarding that weekend pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now then onto the footnotes:
> 
> 1 - Miyafuji Yoshika - The one of the main protagonists of Strike Witches Reimagined, she’s a little different from the canon witch that we all know. Yoshika was born on August 18th, 1927, she’s 150-centimeters tall (that’s about 4’11’’ for us Imperial System using people) and her blood type is Type B Negative. Personality wise she’s roughly the same in the fact that she wants to protect everyone however she willingly joined the military and went to the Navy run witch academy in Yokosuka in order to learn how to not only use striker units and weapons but also how to control her magic, but learning control is difficult for her because she’s the most powerful witch that the Miyafuji Bloodline --a Jipangese witch line that is predominantly composed of healers that dates back to the 1400s-- has ever produced, something that her Grandmother once held. She ranges from mediocre to average in most things, but the power of her shield and the large mana reserves that her wellspring contains along with her cooking ability are considered her strongest points.
> 
> 1a - Sobo - Yoshika is referring to her grandmother, Akimoto Yoshiko, she was born in 1865 and was the most powerful witch to have been born into the Miyafuji Bloodline prior to Yoshika. A lot of the rumors about her are in fact true and the one where she served in the military is vastly understated. She joined the Imperial Jipangese Army in the year 1880 at the age of 15-years. She took part in the First Qing-Jipangese War (1892-1894) and in the aftermath of the conflict married and had her only child Miyafuji Sayaka in the year 1896, she also took part in the Ruskiye-Jipangese War (1904-1905) though in this conflict she primarily served as a teacher at the Yokosuka Witch Academy due to raising a child, and the Great War (1914-1918) on the Western European Front; after the conflict she left military life for good. She used to be a lot like Yoshika but after three consecutive wars and seeing the horrors of it, along with the pain that caused her on a personal level and how the Great War took her husband. While she was originally against the idea of her granddaughters serving in the military, it led to a minor falling out with her elder Granddaughter. Thus she’s been supportive if against the idea.
> 
> 1b - Ane - Yoshika is referring to her older sister, an OC witch named Miyafuji Yukikaze, she was born in the year 1918 and enlisted in the Imperial Jipangese Navy in 1932. She’s currently a Captain and is commanding her own ship and was decorated for bravery during the Jipangese Sea Incident (known as the Fusoan Sea Incident locally). She’s a little taller than Shirley, with hair that’s a darker shade of brown and is a little longer. In 1939 she married Kaneyoshi Muto. She’s currently deployed to the European Theater.
> 
> 2 - Zero-sen - a Historical Term, Imperial Japanese Fighter Pilots during WWII would refer to their fighters as Zero-sens where Sen represents the first three letters of the Japanese word for fighter plane. Here it’s the same concept.
> 
> 3a - Colonel Francie Gillet, an OC Americaine witch - her ace archetype is Francis Warrington Gillet, highest scoring American Ace of World War I to serve in the Royal Flying Corps later Royal Air Force, the only American ace to score more kills in WWI served in the United States Army Air Service and was none other than Eddie Riddenbacker. 
> 
> 3b - Major Florence “Red” Parks, another OC Americaine witch - her Ace Archetype is Major Floyd B. “Red” Parks (1/111911 - 6/4/1942), he was the Commanding Officer of VMF-221 at the Battle of Midway and was killed in action during the battle, his bravery in leading his poorly equipped squadron into vastly superior enemy forces earned him the Navy Cross, the highest award that the United States Navy can bestow. He was just 31-years old.
> 
> 4 - Mu Island is my name for the canonical South Seas Island, it’s located roughly near where the Marshall, Gilbert, and Line Islands are located, overall area is somewhere between Alaska and Texas, the island is rich in natural resources and after the fall of Truk Atoll to the Neuroi, it serves as the homeport for the Imperial Jipangese Pacific Fleet.


	5. Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: [Foreign language being spoken]

**June 24th, 1942, 1400 hours**

**Yokosuka, Jipang, Staff Car**

Yoshika didn’t like riding in the car, an Americaine-made Cadillac Series 72 Town Car that the Yokosuka Witch Academy used for ferrying around instructors along with witches who had been given drastically important assignments. If anything she preferred the uneven puttering of the tractor that Michiko’s grandfather owned compared to the deep rumble of the Staff Car’s V8 engine, it was strange but the staff car made her feel important to a degree that she felt was completely unneeded. 

[You’ve been quiet, is something wrong?] Takei- _ sensei _ asked, giving her a pointed look, the older witch was in her mid-twenties if she had to guess

She started. [No  _ Sensei _ , nothing is wrong. It’s just I don’t really like riding in these things. Makes me feel way more important than I actually am.] she said.

Takei- _ sensei _ actually  _ laughed _ . [I get how you feel, Airwitch Miyafuji. I don’t like riding in these things either.] 

That caused her to pout, she disliked her new rank now that she had been accepted into the League of Nations Air Forces (LoNAF), the force which all Joint formations fell under, it made her feel too important. The title honestly sounded  _ incredibly _ lofty and it was something that she didn’t particularly like. [My new rank sounds incredibly lofty too, even though I  _ know _ it’s the lowest rank in the LoNAF. What is it with militaries and lofty sounding titles?] she grumbled. 

Takei- _ sensei _ laughed, the wind-chime like sound filling the staff car. [Oh Miyafuji, it’s because militaries have an obsession with lofty sounding titles. We practically live for those. It gives us something to brag about at all the parties, don’t you know.] she said with a wink.

Despite herself, she laughed as well, joining with her  _ Sensei _ . It made her feel so much better, knowing that everyone actually was still getting used to it just like she was. But then she thought about her parents. [Ah Kami, I am actually dreading this conversation with my mother and grandmother.]

[Ah, right, Akimoto- _ senpai _ . She’s a First World War veteran, she likely doesn’t have good memories of Europe. It won’t be easy that’s for sure to convince her how different warfare is over there at the moment, particularly since her youngest granddaughter is heading to Europe in order to fight the Neuroi.] Takei- _ sensei  _ said as she shook her head. 

She grimaced, her grandmother despite being in her later years was quite formidable and could be damn terrifying when she wanted too, even though she was for the most part a very kind woman. Almost everything she had learned prior to going to the academy had been thanks to her grandmother, yet she had been quite vocal about her decision to join the military. She hadn’t really minded when Yukikaze had joined the Navy, primarily because she went on the ‘Command Track’ and thus would be relatively safe. [Yeah and that’s the scary thing isn’t it? I am going to Europe, which is how many thousands of kilometers away? She’s right to worry for my safety.] she admitted. 

_ Sensei _ apparently sensed her distress and decided to change the topic. [Miyafuji, if it hadn’t been for the war where do you think you would have gone?] Takei- _ sensei  _ asked with a smile

That was a good question actually, what would she have done had it not been for the war? There were some obvious steps to be sure, but where would she have gone had it not been for the Neuroi? [I honestly don’t know, I likely would have gone to the local witch academy and learned to have become a healer. Probably would have taken over at my family’s clinic.] she replied.

Sensei raised an eyebrow. [Miyafuji, you probably would have wound up in the military regardless. Simply because of the fact that you are an incredibly powerful witch, the most powerful I have ever seen, that’s for sure. Remember limit testing?]

She shuddered, she honestly didn’t try to remember limit testing. They effectively pushed a witch to her absolute limits in terms of what they could do and it had quite frankly  _ sucked _ . [I try not to remember.] she admitted. 

[That’s alright, but you should know that you're well above the norm for witches. You're the sort of witch that comes around once every century, maybe even once every 250-years. You likely won’t even hit your full potential until you are in your twenties or thirties. But I can say for certain that you’ll be extremely powerful but you won’t have a lot of control for a while even with lessons just due to all the mana you have.] Sensei told.

Wait, what? Seriously? She was actually that powerful? That was an immense shock to say the least and it must have shown because Sensei suddenly gained an amused look in her eyes as she seemed to be enjoying herself. Why was that though? Oh. She must have had a fairly stunned expression on her face. Still, one thing stood out to her. [Why even with lessons will I have trouble with control?] she asked.

Sensei smiled. [Has to do with the fact that you have a lot of power at your disposal and thus it's hard to control just  _ because _ of how much mana you have at your disposal. I remember that the sheer amount of mana that you have at your disposal and that you didn’t know that you had such reserves. Thus in your eagerness to use said reserves, it meant that you tripped the limiter on our training strikers more times than I can count.]

She couldn’t refute that, the limiters had typically engaged on her at bad times, usually during botched landings or combat training exercises, more than once it had resulted in a trip to the infirmary or being thoroughly covered in paint. The problem had gone away when she had started advanced training in the Zero- _ sen _ for the most part, but she still tripped them on occasion. The older models used just couldn’t take the amount of mana she could run through it, which had been something that had come as a shock as the Zero- _ sen _ had simply blown the previous models of training striker out of the water in terms of performance. 

[Yeah, that’s true and it happened at times when it wasn’t very helpful either.] she said with a shake of her head. 

Sensei smiled and when she next spoke, it reminded her once more why sometimes Sensei felt less like a teacher and more like an older sister. [Yoshika, how do you feel about heading to Europe?] 

That caused her to stiffen, truth be told it was so far away that it was more than a little terrifying. She would be effectively uprooting her entire life and moving across the planet in order to fight aliens that they barely knew anything about. If she had been going to China, Korea, or Mu she wouldn’t be feeling….jittery. Or maybe that was the nervousness talking. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was feeling that way. [Scared Sensei.] she admitted, Europe was so far away that she worried about a lot of things.

Sensei raised an eyebrow. [That’s surprising Miyafuji, you aren’t really intimidated by much.] 

Intimidating, that honestly about summed up how she felt about heading to Britannia. She knew next to nothing about Europe, about all she knew regarding Britannia was that Jipang had been at war with them once or twice and that they had an empire that literally spanned the globe, one that was so massive the sun never set upon it. Worse, she knew nobody in Britannia, she would have no friends starting off. She would be an outsider to everyone there, she wasn’t scared though. Just intimidated. She just hoped that she wouldn't become miserable there.

[Well Miyafuji, hopefully when you arrive there, you heed this advice, don’t keep to yourself too much, you will be in a unit and you will have to rely on them as they will on you. So as a good idea, is to open up and get to know your fellow fliers, earn their trust, once you have done that, well, they will help you get through almost all situations.]

[Yes Sensei, I understand and I will take your advice to heart.] 

_ If only I can tell her how terrified I am right now. I am amazed that I am not shaking from all the fear. This is a new country we are talking about, I was nervous leaving Yokosuka to go to Kure for that one training class. _ She thought, but she didn’t voice it.

“Now, I do hope you have been learning up on your English.” Sensei suddenly said, catching her flat footed with how  _ easily _ she shifted into speaking another language.

“Yes, I have been learning English, Sensei.” she replied, her words stilted and not exactly sounding right. 

Sensei gave her a fond smile. “Very good, still a little rough on pronunciation, but you're doing good.”

“Thank you, Sensei.” she replied, sounding a little more confident as the brakes on the car squeaked and the vehicle slowed to a halt. 

[We have arrived at Miyafuji Clinic, ma’ams.] The driver of the staff car said as he engaged the parking brake and shifted the car into neutral. 

Sensei nodded in response. [Thanks Petty Officer.] she said before turning to face her. [You ready Airwitch?]

[Yes Sensei!] She answered truthfully, inwardly thinking  _ As ready as I’ll ever be. _

The Miyafuji Clinic was located in a simple wood framed building that was common for the area. It honestly wasn’t much, but it was home. She was going to miss this place when she was in Europe and already was looking forward to coming home. If she came back at all, something that truly honestly scared her. But she shoved that fear aside and headed inside, the most complicated conversation of her life was coming up.

* * *

Yoshika folded another set of clothes and placed them into her trunk. The conversation had gone better than she expected it too. But her grandmother wasn’t happy and her mother was simply mortified. With good reason, compared to China, India, Southeast Asia, Vesperia, or the United States; Western Europe was quickly becoming regarded as a monster that ate men, witches, and equipment alike with equal ease. The prospect of going there, she shook the thought off as she grabbed a heavy jacket and began folding it, she had been told to pack warm clothes because Britannia apparently got colder than Yokosuka did. 

As she filled her trunk, her mind drifted to the route they were taking to Europe. They would be flying to the island of Oahu for just the first leg of their trip. The reason they weren’t taking a more direct route had been because the Neuroi were apparently building up for something big in the area of Alaska. But what that was she didn’t know and probably didn’t want to find out what the Neuroi were planning, however she was expecting to somehow get caught up in it. Regardless, Oahu had been in the Newsreels near constantly, due to the fact that the Imperial Jipangese Navy’s Carrier Division One composed of HIJMS  _ Kaga  _ and  _ Zuikaku _ , the premier Carrier Division in the Imperial Jipangese Navy operated primarily out of Pearl Harbor. 

Another set of clothes went into the trunk.

She found her mind wandering once again to her surprise, she found it wandering to that final briefing where she found out that she had been selected for the 501st JFW. An event that had changed her life forever for sure, but was it for the better? That she honestly didn’t know, for all she knew, that event could get her a wooden cross or it could get her into one of the Orders that Jipang has or even both. The thought of it being both was more than a little worrying and scary all things considered. 

The world around her faded as she drifted into the recent memory.

* * *

_ Once again they were in the briefing room, up on the board were several maps of the area they had the mock dogfight. The Major was once again going over everything with them and being rather thorough about it. _

_ “Now that everyone is here, I want to tell you what I think of you girls.” The Major spoke, “All of you did well, some pairs still need some work but that can be said for all of you, there is always room for improvement, you have to reflect on your actions during the mock battle to see what can be improved and I am sure your sensei will be more than willing to help in that regard.” _

_ Sakamoto paused as she glanced at Junko who gave a confirming nod which she returned in kind. _

_ “Now there were some of you who performed extremely well and amazed even a veteran like myself but I guess that tutelage is true, ‘You can predict what a veteran to do but never a rookie, you will never know what they will do.’” _

_ This garnered a laugh from the assembled trainee witches. _

_ “However, as you all have seen, being unpredictable doesn’t always mean you win. Sometimes the simplest plans work as showcased by the only pair to get the drop on me, Cadets Miyafuji and Hattori, whose only plan was to get me to tunnel-vision on one of them allowing the other to slot in behind me. They also showcased the ability to work together very well, working to incorporate each other’s strengths and covering their weaknesses, something I can’t say for a few pairs if the shouting was something to go by.” _

_ A few nervous chuckles were heard amongst the trainees though there were a small number of them pouting as well. _

_ “In all you girls did well and you all should be proud of yourselves, however due to the needs of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing at the moment however, I must select Officer Cadets Miyafuji Yoshika and Hattori Shizuka but for the rest of you? Don't let that discourage you, if anything your all good girls and if you keep up the level of skill that you displayed here. You will find yourself in a Joint Formation. Don’t take your failure here as the be all and end all, as the Americaines would say, gotta keep trying.” The Major said as she scanned the room a few times, gauging the faces of the witches, “Dismissed. If you want a detailed report, come to Junko’s office and I will be there. Come in your combat pairs.” _

* * *

Just like that the memory faded away and Yoshika frowned, the words that the Major had said when she had announced her intention to pick them. The thing about how herself and Shizuka had been selected because of “the needs of the unit”, were things really that bad in Europe? She shuddered at the thought, just thinking about it made it all the more likely that she wouldn’t see the end of the war.

But then another thought came to her. What if they were in dire need for a combat medic? That thought was another scary one. But she remembers the promise she had made to her father before he had left in 1937 to work on the Pocket Dimension-type Striker Unit.  _ Don’t worry Otōsan, I will use my gift to protect everyone. _ She thought as she looked up at the sky and smiled.

She would do it for her father, like he would want her to do, to protect everyone. 

* * *

**0500 Hours, June 24th, 1942**

**Near Rye, Britannia**

**Base of the 501st JFW**

A scowl crossed the face of Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke as she glowered at the ‘request’ that had been passed down from RAF Fighter Command. For some godforsaken reason, RAF Bomber Command had decided that it wanted a Joint Light Bomber Squadron and that the best thing to do to get said Joint Light Bomber Squadron wasn’t to establish its own formation but to apparently swipe one of the squadrons from the 501st JFW. Why the hell had they decided that the best place to get a Joint Squadron was to poach one from a JFW? 

It then clicked. Something  _ big _ had to be brewing, she knew that ever since The Battle of Britannia was considered to have ended, randomly occurring raids of various compositions from Gallia and Baltland notwithstanding, that the RAF was looking to  _ break _ Neuroi air power over Gallia to make way for a counterattack that would begin the Liberation of Europe. Such an effort would require the destruction of multiple Neuroi hives, the one in Calais, Caen, and Paris to start with, but in order for such an act to occur, they would need a toehold in Gallia. Which given the fighting in Hispania wouldn’t be able to happen in the southern part of the country for the foreseeable future and the same was true with the fighting in the Alps along the Italia-Gallia border. Which left a rather unsavory option, that of conducting a naval operation in order to draw the Neuroi air forces out where they could then be exterminated, allowing for the allies to advance unimpeded. 

That also meant the Liberation of Gallia was going to be starting  _ soon _ .

She looked over the communique again and made note that they wanted a squadron with previous experience in ground attack. Something that nearly all members of her Wing had to be honest to varying degrees. However, looking at what she had and the requirements, she sighed, there was a temptation to try and fight the order. But she also knew that she didn’t have many friends in RAF Bomber Command that could kill this order. That left her with just three options, because she had three squadrons.

Fortis Squadron was easily the Wing’s premier fighter squadron and was extremely well known. There would be an uproar if she forwarded the squadron, which contained some of humanity’s best aces, to RAF Bomber Command. It would also mean the end of her career as well if the public had anything to say about it. Another thing that factored against that was the fact that it would be political suicide considering that Perrine was to her knowledge, the current ‘acting’ head of the Ancient and Noble House of Clostermann due to her parents having been killed during the Fall of Gallia. She also knew that Perrine would hate herself if she had to bomb her homeland and would likely blame her for it. That meant that squadron was off the table. 

Then there was Indigo Squadron, while not as highly praised or beloved as Fortis Squadron was, the squadron also was revered due to the fact that the squadron was being led by the famed Major Mitya “Indigo Heron'' Heinrich. She was famed for her actions over Belgica and Northern Gallia and similarly to Perrine came from a Noble Family, although she wasn’t the Head of House like the Gallian in Fortis was. Again, it would be akin to committing political suicide and she knew that while Mitya wouldn’t hold it against her, the Heinrich Family  _ might _ . 

This left Ghostrider Squadron, all things considered it was the squadron that was the least likely to have her career end due to political connections and public backlash. To put it simply, it was the choice that made the most logical sense. But it didn’t mean that she  _ liked _ the idea however, if anything she hated the idea of losing a fighter squadron, it meant that her wing would have less flexibility to respond on days with multiple raids heading to multiple targets. Something that thankfully didn’t happen very often these days but during The Blitz, it was something that had happened with alarming regularity. If the Neuroi ever resumed an operational tempo like  _ that _ again and the 501st JFW only had two squadrons to its name then.

There would be too many bombers, not enough of the JFW to go around.

But such was war and its unpredictability, a part of her actually agreed with the decision to downsize the 501st JFW. It would mean less logistical headaches to worry about, the thought of keeping a JFW happy when you had a supply chain that would have to get into Europe was a daunting one. 

Sighing she earmarked Ghostrider Squadron for the transfer to RAF Bomber Command and then moved on to the next bit of paperwork that had arrived early this morning. 

_ Oh joy. _ Minna thought sourly. The next piece of paperwork was a sortie order for the 501st JFW’s night witch section from Allied Air Forces West European Theater Command. RAF Bomber Command and the Luftwaffe were going to launch one of their Thousand Bomber Raids, the target this time was Bremen. The raid composition was an eccentric mixture of Wellingtons, Halifaxes, Lancasters, Sterlings, Hampdens, Bostons, Hudsons, Machesters, Mosquitos, Luftwaffe operated B-25Cs, Ju-188s, Do-217s, He-177s, and Bomber Witches. With an escort composed of Mosquitos, Whirlwinds, Bf-110s, Do-217s, an Americaine night fighter squadron, and Night Witches. This was something she was going to have to handle at breakfast with the Wing which occurred in just over an hour. The consequences of this sortie meant that Nightmare Section was going to be taken off their routine night patrol and Sanya would have to be sent up in their stead. 

She frowned, the 501st JFW due to where it was headquartered, fell under RAF jurisdiction and as a consequence had adapted many of the RAF’s tactics, strategies, and formations. This included how night witches were deployed which was always in pairs. Most nations however employed night witches in the same manner that they employed night fighters, as solitary hunters in the black. She knew from her record that Sanya could handle herself on solo sorties even if it was against RAF policy, admittedly though she would prefer if Sanya had a wingwitch up there. 

Sighing, she thumbed over to the next piece of paperwork that needed looking over and approval. Oh, oh wow. This was excellent news, it seems like someone had put two-and-two together realizing that for the Western European Front that the Yak-1 was rather long in the tooth. Thus it seemed like someone up high had finally decided that Sanya needed better striker units, she would be receiving P-40F-5 Warhawk Striker Units with, huh, apparently Amerrique was building Merlin Engines and its magic engine variant, the Mage now. That was damn good news, it would give Sanya something actually worth a damn at high altitude. Now if only she could get the Ruthenian to stop buzzing the damn tower whenever she came back from sorties, that thought drew another sigh from the Wing Commander. The first time she had chewed Sanya out on the matter of buzzing the tower without permission, the Ruthenian had seemed rather  _ bored _ instead of being intimidated, which meant she had probably done it before. 

She thumbed over to the next piece of paper work that needed approving and it brought a broad grin to her face. It seemed like there was finally enough Vickers Gas Operated-Witch and MG 42-Hexel’s running around that for once the RAF and Luftwaffe weren’t snapping all of them up as soon as they became available. Which meant that they could  _ finally _ get rid of the Lewis Guns that her unit had been saddled with. Albeit that was because the RAF hadn’t developed new weapons for their fighter witches before the B.E.F had even been sent over, despite having developed the Vickers Gas Operated as a new defensive armament for aircraft, from what she had learned, the various witches of the Britannian Imperial Commonwealth had  _ not _ been happy about that, and while the Luftwaffe witches had brought most of the MG 34s that they had been issued over with them. The  _ Heer _ had promptly demanded that the Luftwaffe hand over all MG 34s, which the Luftwaffe forces in Britannia had reluctantly done.

The fact that they were getting new equipment meant that the supply situation must be  _ finally _ turning around.

* * *

**Solar Cycle 2,028 (Local Clock since operations began)**

**Berlin, Germania**

Berlin.

The Capital of the Imperial Democratic Germanian Empire, or well  _ was _ . 

Now, the capital along with the rest of the land was under occupation. The sky for dozens of kilometers in all directions tinted a strange purple color, having been spread by the 18-kilometer diameter swirling black and green cone of menace that was a Neuroi Super-Hive. Aliens moved resolutely upon strange seemingly jointless legs, leading squads of machines that were constantly searching, scanning, tracking tirelessly and without remorse as they clanked along in the streets, the civilians who rode bicycles or walked taking care to avoid them. Searching as they were for witches and mythical creatures that hadn’t been rounded up for processing. 

A squad found one, they breached the house and human gunfire erupted, it was answered in kind by the roaring booms and searing crackles of weapons that possessed fell power, occasionally a flash of blue light would flare from the building. Methodically and quickly the aliens subdued those who hid what they sought and then all was still. 

The squad reappeared several minutes later, standing inside a protective cordon holding their hands on their heads with thick collars around their necks were two witches. One bore the uniform of the Ruthenian VVS and judging by the damage to it and the fact one of her arms was in a makeshift sling instead of on her head made it clear she had probably been shot down in a recent air raid on the city. The other witch appeared to be maybe 10 years old and appeared to be a mere civilian, her powers having probably just manifested. 

A transport came up the street, the only noise it produced came from the sound of the tires against the street and a faint whine. The back hatch opened and the two witches were forced inside, one was resigned to her fate while the other appeared to be wailing with tears streaming down her face. The doors slammed shut and the transport rolled away as another pulled up to have those inside the residence sent to the police station. The first transport with its terrified cargo in its belly prowled through the streets as it headed to where the  _ Riechstag _ stood. 

Only it wasn’t heading there. 

Instead it was heading to the  _ fortress _ that dominated what had been Großer Tiergarten. The streets had been reorganized in order to allow for its construction. It was a massive structure made of nanomaterials, ceramite, duracrete, steel, and vibranium with two distinctive levels that loomed over 175-meters tall, the first level looked like a six-sided star and the second was a six-sided polygon. Towering over the monuments and historical buildings that dotted the landscape, indeed being taller than even the ring of six smaller flak towers that had sprung up to allow the aliens to guard their holding on the planet. Berliners called it  _ Die Zitadelle der Albträume _ or The Citadel of Nightmares, the rumors of what happened to those who were taken inside defied belief. The snippets of truth that  _ did _ get out were often twisted by the populace out of proportion, but to an extent they weren't  _ wrong  _ either.

The being known as Primarch was notified of the arrival of the two witches as the transport drove in the facility and into the acceptance area. The doors opened and the witches were brought out, the civilian looked terrified and was crying out fearfully in her native language while struggling with the collar around her neck, the VVS witch was quiet and accepting of her fate. The latter spoke some words to the former and the civilian calmed down. 

A sharp command came from one of his species and the girls marched as the Bots aimed their arm-mounted weapons at them. They were guided deeper into the fortress through checkpoints and a maze of corridors, this maze was designed in such a way to be disorienting to those who weren’t familiar with his language or the layout in general. Until eventually they arrived at processing.

It was here that their fate would be determined.

They were forced at the gunpoint to walk through a set of heavy doors that sealed behind them and thus would prevent any escape if they weren’t compliant in the actions to follow. They were searched by mechanical and electronic means. It was found that the Ruthenian’s broken arm and been improperly set, a doctoral machine quickly took the injured limb rebroke the healing bone and properly set it before applying a more advanced splint and a painkiller. Examinations began, they were weighed, had their vitals taken, as well as blood and tissue samples, they also learned the names of the witches as well as their age, until finally their usefulness was determined and they were branded with a barcode and identification code. The whole process was expedient and efficient. Just seeing it in action caused Primarch’s lipless mouth to twitch upwards. 

That same lipless mouth twitched up even more as the report came in. The civilian wasn’t of much use and wouldn’t be until her so-called ‘magic’ had a chance to stabilize which left mere internment as the best option for her until that ‘magic’ had actually matured enough for something. The VVS witch, she would be of much use, particularly if Unit Three’s new initiative worked, with a thought he sealed her fate by submitting her file for usage for Unit Three’s initiative. 

A chime played, so it was time for another meeting then. He leaned back as the psionic communication field hummed to life and within a few microseconds nearly 20 other presences connected one after the other, each one represented a single Front or in some cases Theater Commander: One was in charge of operations in the Balkans along with the occupation of Macedonia, Dacia, and Moesia, Two was in charge of operations in North Africa, Three was in-charge of Special Projects, Four handled the Baltland Theater, Five was responsible for the occupation of Gallia along with combat against the humans in Hispania, Italia, the Sint Truiden pocket, and part of Helvetia, Six handled the Eastern European Front, Seven handled the Atlantic Theater, Eight further operations against Venezia, Italia, and Helvetia, Nine managed the Republic of China, Burma, India Theater, 10 the Qing Empire, Korean, and Jipangese theater, 11 the United States of Amerrique Theater, 12 the Dominion of Vesperia Theater, 13 the Malay Barrier Region, 14 the Pacific Theater, 15 handled the Indian Ocean and East Africa Fronts, 16 was in-charge of of the occupation of Germania, Poland, and Ostmark as well as coordinating attacks on Sumous and Helvetia, and finally 17 handled Special Operations. Greetings were exchanged. 

**Primarch:** Alright, give me a status report on conditions. 

**One:** Primarch, I must say. Things are quiet as usual over Macedonia, the witches are being kept safely in their fortresses under guard and it's been made quite clear that if they leave the grounds we have the right to intern them. Production of war material is continuing at pace, soon I will have enough machines built in order to take another swing at both Cyprus and Athens. The humans also seem to be preparing to try and retake Crete I believe. If they do, my planned offensives against the Ostmans and to an extent against the Athens Pocket will be ruined. I am dependent on that island keeping my flank secure.

**Primarch:** So noted One, do remember that you have a fairly substantial fleet composed of salvaged human warships along with  _ Leviathan _ and  _ Chimera _ class Capital Types at your disposal, be sure to use them. 

**One:** That’s part of the problem, the humans have a  _ significant _ naval presence in what they call the Mediterranean Sea. With major surface elements from multiple navies, I know for a fact that the Ottomans don’t have their stupid seven turreted battleship at their disposal because its getting an overhaul in South Amerrique. But there are still heavy units from the Free Royal Hellenic Navy, Free Venezian Navy, Free Imperial Gallian Navy,  _ Regia Marina _ , and Britannian Royal Navy in the Mediterranean or are located in the Indian Ocean that could run interference for the operation. I’ll need at least one Aerial Fleet to assist in any naval operations.

**Primarch:** Understood. 

A pause. 

**Primarch:** The 5th Aerial Fleet has been assigned to you One.

**One:** Thank you my lord.

**Primarch:** Two, I hear that you have a progress report on how things in Africa are going?

**Two:** I do, as you know, two years ago. I had the first and second aerial fleets attack the Gallian anchorage at Mers-el-Kébir where we managed to sink one  _ Normandie _ class Super-Dreadnought, three  _ Bertange _ class Super-Dreadnoughts, both  _ Dunkerque _ class Fast Battleships, and the aircraft carrier  _ Béarn _ . In the aftermath of the conquest of Gallian Africa, I had a construction dome built over Mers-el-Kébir. I can now say that the work being done under the Dome has now been completed. We can now bring the Gallian Warships that had been sunk there to bear against the humans, they have been rebuilt and enhanced. Additionally after reviewing human ocean-going warships, I have found multiple things that will greatly increase the durability of our own ocean going warships in general and have construction schematics updated accordingly. Additionally the upgrading and enhancing shore defenses is ongoing. But I don’t have all good news, the Allies seem to have an offensive in the works near El Alamein and the probability that the humans will achieve victory even with the intervention of both Aerial Fleets at my command is high, 30% with the intervention of both aerial fleets.

**Primarch:** Understood Two, we can’t win them all. But the humans have to be getting desperate, if you feel it necessary, you have my permission to bomb the Suez Canal.

**Two:** Understood My Lord. 

A pause.

**Primarch:** Thank you two. Three, give your report on your newest initiative, your latest missive said that you had made a breakthrough on it. Is that correct? 

**Three:** Indeed I have my lord, this special project started out as an attempt to find out how witches and their magic worked. During the experimentation and evolution of theory, I succeeded in developing a surgical procedure that results in witches actively fighting  _ for _ us.

A  _ pause. _

**Four:** How is that possible? Witches are almost impossible to break, particularly the ones that are extremely in tune with the source of their animal aspects.

**Primarch:** I am with Four, Three. How did you do this? Reports and what I have seen personally indicate that the only way to break a witch is to completely demoralize one, destroy everything and if need be everyone that she holds dear. Even then it might backfire, because then they would continue fighting because they have nothing to lose.   
  


**Three:** [A lipless mouth breaks into a wide grin] Admittedly it's an extremely expensive process and not all witches that we capture are suitable for the procedure as I made clear in my report. In order for the procedure to be successful however, the usage of Nanomaterial, Ichor, cybernetics, biocompatible pico-scale ceramic armor weaves, a Mesoote Crystal, a Sage Master, Assassination Beast level restraints, and some level of sedation is required but best results occur when the level of sedation doesn’t knock her out.

_ *Various murmurs of shock and surprise flit through the assembled members of the meeting.* _

**Twelve:** Three, that’s the most cruel thing I’ve heard. Such a procedure if done in that manner would be utterly agonizing. However, the use of Sage Master indicates that extremely heavy psionic use must be required.

**Three:** Admittedly, yes it is. Quite heavy usage of extremely proficient psionics are required in order to plant the seeds of indoctrination as well as to suppress memories and personality which allow for the seeds to take root then propagate which can take time. But the results speak for themselves, these units whom I’ve christened Librarians can fight a witch on nearly equal terms in a controlled environment, regardless we need combat data before improvements can be made. However, we’re still having trouble in replicating their striker units. We understand the majority of the mechanics and function, but the pocket-dimension construction still evades us. 

**Primarch:** [Sighs] Three, you don’t have to perfectly replicate them, if you wish you can alter the striker units we have captured and integrate our own technology into it. When can we start production of these Librarians? 

**Three:** We have enough witches who are suitable for the procedure to begin limited production right away, however once viable combat data becomes more and more available, adjustments will be made. At the moment we got 20 units available for combat trials, these are pre-production units though so performance wise they won’t be as lethal. 

**Six:** Damn you Three! I need something that can help me win Ruthenia now! Moscow and St. Petersburg have both been under siege for years and they aren’t going to be breaking anytime soon. This all being said I have seen an opportunity to utterly cripple the Allied War Effort by striking for the oil fields beyond the Volga River. Those fields account for nearly 30% of all oil production, we capture those fields then this war is won. If I have three-quarters of these units, then chances of success go up significantly since I am facing two Joint Fighter Wings, one in the north and one in the south. I can use twelve of the units to counter the southern one and three in the north to cause enough problems to keep the majority of the northern one to stay put.

**Five:** What about the rest of us?! I have been rethinking my entire strategy since I called off the Blitz. The bombers get demolished far too easily before they arrive, thus I am changing focus to more stand-off ordnance, the aerial fleet I have will get torn up too easily. Too many aircraft and witches, what’s worse the humans appear to be planning an invasion of Europe. Where I am not sure, but I have put my forces on alert, having some of my own I wouldn’t mind.

* _ General bickering begins* _

**Primarch:** [Forcefully]  **Enough!** Six, you will get ten Librarians, the others will be split up among the other theaters as needed. 

Many hours later, the meeting broke up. Primarch was rather pleased with how the Librarians had been doled out. 14 was  _ still _ pissed about the resource squabbles at the start of the Solar Cycle that had resulted in a major offensive starting late which had affected his entire offensive timetable. The other theaters for the most part were relatively stable or gains had been made. Regardless, they had a number of critical offensives that needed winning, otherwise the scales could tip in favor of humanity. Particularly given the production capability that some human nations had, most notably the United States of Amerrique. But if they could win at Midway, then they could open an additional front in the United States and assure victory in this war.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: That’s it for this chapter, this is a new project but still give your thoughts and opinions on it. Now then onto the things of note:
> 
> [1] Foreign Language Words that aren’t well known.
> 
> Recepționat - Romanian - Roger  
> La Naiba - Romanian - Dammit  
> Ceruri azurice și vânturi blânde, prietenul meu - Romanian - Azure Skies and Gentle Winds  
> DANNAZIONE - Italian - GODDAMMIT
> 
> Addendum - The phrase “Azure Skies and Gentle Winds” among the witch community is a very old phrase, dating back to a time when witches still primarily used brooms when they wanted to get from Point A to Point B fast and a horse wasn't going to cut it.
> 
> [2] It was decided by the Allied High Command upon formation of the Joint Fighter Wings that in order to simplify things and not put further strain on supply chains throughout the world that they would use for handheld weapons the exact same weaponry and that the weaponry used were to be primarily aircraft weaponry with notable magazine capacity, be controllable when firing for prolonged periods if its an automatic, and have ammunition available in large quantities; please note that while the Bren Gun does fit this role quite well but its in very high demand in the Britannian Army.
> 
> [3] Additional squadrons, well it's called the 501st Joint Fighter Wing after all. To that extent, the 501st is composed of four squadrons; three of which are dedicated daytime fighter squadrons. We got Fortis Squadron (Fortis translates into Strong and is the canon squadron), Indigo Squadron, and Ghostrider Squadron; additionally the 501st JFW has a night fighter witch squadron known as Nightmare Section. The three daytime squadrons are all composed of sixteen witches when at full strength while, Nightmare Section is composed of just two witches. Sanya is a rather unique witch in Fortis as while all witches can easily qualify for night operations, the ones who don’t have an ability like Space Understanding or a Magic Antenna ability have a much harder time finding the enemy and are more likely to fly right into the ground. Please note that this organization won’t be permanent. 
> 
> [4] Lynette Bishop in Westland Whirlwinds, as a Marksman witch. Lynette is actually quite vulnerable to getting bounced by something if she’s focusing on sniping. Hence the twin-engine strikers (which are identifiable by a magic propeller near the base of the striker unit and a sleek pod facing aft with another magic propeller and its attendant engine) which due to having a somewhat larger frame can support more foci crystals allowing for a witch to generate more powerful shields. Additionally they got a better power-to-weight ratio allowing for even better acceleration than what a witch can usually manage, plus they can support having more ballast put in without it affecting performance making them better in diving which is useful for getting out of hairy situations. That said, these were Mark I Whirlwinds so they aren’t the best either. 
> 
> Shirley having Curtiss P-40Fs, well the P-51 with the Merlin Engine hasn’t even flown yet and the P-51D is literally years away.
> 
> Sanya flying Yak-1s, well, her Ace Archetype actually flew Yak-1s IRL, so that’s a change I am making here. 
> 
> Eila flying a B-239E, now I bet you're wondering what the hell is a B-239 and to put it simply, it’s an F2A Brewster Buffalo that isn’t shitty, seriously, the Finnish loved these things.


End file.
